by L C Kincaide
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t.” Ivy laughed at his enthusiasm. “I’m sure Mr. Fawkes would have appreciated the sentiment.” She stole a grateful smile in Mason’s direction.
“I cannot speak for the late Mr. Fawkes’ proclivities, but I would not mind a drink for myself. Mason?” Victoria spoke, her words clipped, and held out her hand for Mason to take. It was a blatant attempt at possession, and he being a gentleman was not about to ignore the gesture, something Victoria well knew. Before turning away, he nodded to Ivy, giving her a look of resignation. Victoria cast her a long, cool stare.
“Come along, George, Ivy.” Lucy called already on her way to the table.
“The drinks await!” George responded cheerfully.
Ivy turned to accompany them when she noticed Emma hurrying toward her, and she caught up, panting into the shade.
“If I keep playing, I won’t be able to stay awake later!” She fanned herself with her hat, sandy wisps sprouting in several places. “I’m beat! Who knew it would get this hot? Lord, I can feel my hair-do falling apart!”
“It is warm, isn’t it? I was just about to have a drink.”
“A fabulous idea!”
They made their way toward the refreshments table. A pleasant breeze flapped the overhanging canvas and lifted the corners of the tablecloths. Lucy’s group had already taken their drinks some distance away and seemed content to stay where they were.
Emma turned to her. “I hope you aren’t feeling neglected. I’ve lost all track of time playing croquet. It helps to speed things up a bit for me.”
“No, not at all.” Hadn’t she seen her with Lucy and the others? She was probably too focused on the game. And Robert, no doubt. “I was just…” she was about to tell Emma of her encounter with Victoria when Carrie and her brother sidled up to the table.
“May I?” John asked, a pitcher of iced tea in his hand.
Ivy smiled and held out her glass. “It has gotten rather warm, hasn’t it?”
“It sure has!” John replied, genially displaying perfect white teeth. “Feels more like summer than the fall.”
He took a sip. A handsome man in his late twenties, his hair was the color of butterscotch, his eyes a chocolate brown, with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His coloring was delicious. Athletic and trim, he moved with confidence and ease, and Ivy wondered if he had a girlfriend. Light-hearted and pleasant, he was a more suitable choice for Emma for so many reasons, including accessibility. But who was she to talk, infatuated with a man she had just met, spent next to no time with, the romance playing out entirely in her imagination? Yes, she decided, Emma would fare better with John. Unfortunately, the heart wants what it wants. It seldom made sense.
“Yes, it’s a beautiful day.”
His eyes twinkled beneath his boater. “Interesting fact, Ivy, is that whatever the weather was the day before, croquet day is always sunny. It has never failed. At least, not in my experience.”
“It is uncanny when you think about it.” Carrie volunteered.
“That is interesting.” Ivy agreed smiling. “It has certainly been a perfect afternoon so far.”
“Then we must drink a toast,” He raised his glass and everyone joined him. “To a perfect day among friends!”
“Hear, hear!” They clinked their glasses.
Over Emma’s shoulder, Ivy noticed Mason watching though he made no move to join their group.
The game over, the rest of the players convened under the tent for afternoon refreshments before returning to the house to rest and prepare for the festivities for the coming evening.
The senior Ruskins were the first to join them, the Langstone party, moments later. Sandwiches and sweets under gleaming silver domes awaited the guests as they settled themselves at the wicker tables and chatted amongst themselves.
Emma turned to Ivy. “I can’t look at food.”
Ivy was glad to hear she was not alone in that mindset. She never ate this much at home.
“I know, I couldn’t eat a thing. I’m still full from brunch.”
“And the heat.” Emma looked around conspiratorially. “If we leave now, we can have a little snooze before we get dressed up. I really want Robert to finally notice me. I don’t think all these silly ruffles are doing the job.” She flicked the lace at the neckline with her fingers. “It’s just not me.”
Ivy grinned. No, indeed, Emma was denim and leather. ”Sounds like a plan.” She rose from her seat and followed her to the house. On the way, they passed Grace against a nearby tree enjoying an overdue cigarette break in the shade. She raised a languid hand in their direction.
When they reached the landing of the open gallery, she watched Emma turn the corner to her wing, waited a moment longer, then turned and headed back down the stairs, turning left and down the empty hall.
As soon as she stepped into the library, a warmth enveloped her, redolent with old leather and paper lending the room a comfortingly antique scent. Golden light slanted through the windows and washed over the gold-stamped tomes and glinted off the brass upholstery tacks on the leather sofa. No one else was there, just as she had hoped, all the house inhabitants were still outside or upstairs, which was the reason for her being here.
Her eyes found the album lying open on the desk, the fragile photographs at further risk of damage in the sun. It was turned to a page ahead of where she was last studying the ancestors with Lucy. She picked it up and peered closer. These pictures were taken more recently, still aged, but not as badly faded. They had made improvements in the art of photography in the intervening years. Several photographs were arranged on the pages, some single portraits with ladies in profile or facing the camera, some smiling, others not. There were pictures of gentlemen with various styles of facial hair, poses of couples and small groups.
She turned the pages back in time looking for the one that had caught her eye earlier and hadn’t noticed she was no longer alone in the room. Startled, she nearly dropped the album, but Mason took it from her hands just as it slipped.
Her cheeks warmed at being discovered. ”You must think me very nosy for going through your family’s album.”
He smiled instead. “On the contrary, I am glad you have taken an interest. What do you make of them so far?”
Ivy breathed a sigh of relief, hoping her discomfort hadn’t been too obvious. “To be honest, I don’t know most of them well enough to judge, but I like Emma and Lucy very much.”
“Ah, yes. Lucy is a cheeky one. Both are spirited in their own ways.” He said with a trace of affection in his voice. He placed the album on the desk and indicated a group photo. “That is a photograph taken of the last croquet game in 1903.”
Emma studied the faces. She recognized Mason’s duplicate and his wife, Amelia. The others were unknown to her.
“All of them have a descendant under this roof today.” He said.
“Who are they?” Ivy squinted at the page.
Mason lifted it from its paper corners for her to see and moved closer, their arms brushing. He handed the photograph to her, and Ivy accepted it holding it carefully by the edge.
He pointed to a couple on the far right. “They are the Langstones, Horatio and Edwina, and this is their daughter Hannah and sons Roderick and Edward.”
Ivy searched for a resemblance to Theo Langstone, but the faces were small and features difficult to discern. That particular Sir Langstone was a tall, slim man and not at all resembling his portly descendant.
“And here,” Mason indicated a serious looking gentleman in spectacles, “is Albert Ruskin and his wife Beatrice. They had twin girls, Edwina and Eudora and a son, Wilfred.”
Ivy recognized the light eyes and sandy hair of the current generation.
“It looks like it was a happy day.” She said
too aware of his proximity and handed the picture him before her hand started to tremble.
He tucked it back in and closed the album.
“If you ever want to study it more closely, you are more than welcome to do so.” He turned to her. “You need not feel you are prying or invading anyone’s privacy in doing so.”
Her eyes met his and found he was sincere though she did not understand why he would make her this offer. He held her gaze.
— Remember —
The word flashed through her mind. Oh Yes!
“I never had a chance to thank you.” She said trying not to blush. “I loved the orchid. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“I stopped myself at one.“ He replied, his face breaking into a grin. “I didn’t want to crowd you out of your room.”
She wouldn’t have minded if he tried to crowd her in the room later tonight. The thoughts she was thinking! It was a good thing he couldn’t read her mind — she was powerless in her attraction to him. For now, she was content to be sharing a private moment. With his cousins and friends vying for his time and attention, there wasn’t much left over for her.
“I am glad you enjoyed it. I saw you were partial to that one.”
“Yes. You are very perceptive.”
“I am looking forward to seeing you at the party later tonight.” He spoke, his eyes soft, his voice pleasingly deep.
Her skin was tingling, the air around them seeming to shimmer, and she was finding it difficult to speak.
“As am I.” Her words came out barely above a whisper.
She could not tear her gaze away. Somewhere in the room a clock ticked. He took her hands in his and the warmth of his touch spread up her arms and throughout her body. Her heart pounded, and still, his eyes held hers.
“I have been a rather inattentive host.” He spoke softly. “I haven’t been able to show you how magnificent this house is or how utterly delighted I am you are here, enjoying it.”
Ivy thrilled at hearing this confession. Until now, she had hoped, even suspected at times, but to hear the words spoken out loud…
His gaze broke away, and he glanced at her hands in his. “It has been a very long time…”
Ivy didn’t understand the meaning behind what he said, but it didn’t matter.
“All that will change tonight.” He resumed softly, and he brought her hands up, his lips brushing the tops of her knuckles. The gesture sent a thrill through her like a lightning bolt.
He released them and stepped back. Once again, his eyes held hers as if he was about to say more and changed his mind. Ivy had the distinct impression something remained unspoken and unfinished between them, but instead, he turned to leave the room.
“Until tonight.” He smiled from the door and walked away.
She continued to stare at the spot. She looked at her hands. They were trembling. This is real. He was here, and he spoke to me, and it really happened. She told herself this repeatedly. She had not had another seizure, nor was this an imagined fantasy.
Cheerful voices echoed from the central hall, their footfalls tapping on the marble then hushed on the carpet. The rest of the household had come in and were heading upstairs to rest before preparing for the evening. Ivy waited until they were well on their way before emerging from the library.
Only a sliver of golden light sliced through the skylight as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Hastily, she crossed the floor and hurried up the stairs holding on to the moments of the past few minutes.
When she opened the door to her room, she found Styles waiting for her, smiling in anticipation. She closed it behind her and stared in surprise when she turned around.
Hanging from a hook on the armoire was the beautiful, wine-colored, beaded silk dress she had discovered on her first night. She glanced at Styles then at the gown. She gingerly touched the fabric to make sure it was real. But how was this possible? Below it, she found matching satin shoes. What sort of coincidence was this? This dress had not been in her armoire before, she was certain of it. It came from the armoire in the other room in the unused north wing. No one knew she had been there, never mind having admired it!
“Styles,”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Where did this come from?”
Styles’ expression suggested she should already know the answer to that. “Why, Master Mason sent it for you to wear.”
Ivy blinked back at her speechless.
The maid cast her a concerned look. “Would you prefer something else? I’m sure…”
“No. No.” She stammered. “I love it! It’s perfect!”
“It is indeed, especially with your coloring. The garnets will be particularly lovely.” She beamed, indicating the open velvet box on the dressing table. Inside lay a three-tiered garnet choker and matching drop earrings. Ivy gazed upon them bewildered. Were they for her to wear? Apparently they were. They looked familiar — where had she seen them?
“You will look absolutely stunning this evening, if you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Ivy.”
She was speechless. How on earth had he known?
“When you are ready, just ring and I shall come up to help you dress.”
Ivy could only manage a mute nod as Styles let herself out.
Nearly everyone was assembled in the parlor when Ivy made her entrance. The evening already had a fairy tale quality about it, further enhanced by her stunning gown and exquisite jewels, neither of which were part of her everyday life. It fit her perfectly, and Styles had taken care to arrange her hair in a soft pompadour with loose coils. Ivy had never considered herself a vain person, but tonight, she felt beautiful, and self-conscious anticipating the attention she was about to receive.
Elinor was the first to take notice of her, and following the woman’s reaction, everyone stared.
“My word!” Elinor gasped. “You look absolutely stunning! Why, the resemblance is uncanny!”
Emma smirked at her side. “See, I told you so.”
“What are you talking about? Resemblance to whom?” Grace’s eyes shifted from Ivy to Elinor and back.
“To Amelia Everdon, of course.” Her father answered.
“Just like the picture in the gallery. Have a look for yourself.” Elinor suggested.
Grace shivered. “Oh, no. Not me. The place gives me the willies!”
“Honestly, Grace. It is merely a corridor.” Sir Theo grumbled, but Grace only shrugged in response.
“Indeed, what a coincidence!” Elinor beamed, undeterred. “And it’s Ivy’s natural hair color too!”
“Really, mum!”
Ivy’s cheeks warmed, and she had to force herself not to shift from one foot to another and wring her hands under their scrutiny.
“I’m only paying Ivy a compliment.” Elinor turned to her. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, dear, not at all. Amelia was a strikingly beautiful woman.”
Ivy mumbled her thanks, and avoided making eye contact with the gaping assembly, who also murmured their approval.
“I think Ivy needs a drink.” Emma came to her rescue, leading her away by the arm. “What will it be? Wine, Sherry, maybe something stronger?” She pulled her to the drinks cabinet.
“Wine is good.” She leaned toward Emma. “It’s not overdone is it?” She whispered referring to the dress.
“No. It’s perfect. You look amazing. Cheers!”
The wine was warm and soothing going down and even better when its effect spread throughout her body and took the sharp edge off her nerves. She scanned the room, but Mason wasn’t here and disappointment washed over her. He had made it a point of saying he was looking forward to seeing her.
The clock in the hall chimed seven, and Ivy could have sworn Elinor twitched at the sound.
“Sh
all we?” The hostess rose smoothly from her chair and gestured toward the dining room.
They took their places at the exquisitely set table, everyone’s seat identified by gold-scripted name cards tented at the head of their Royal Doulton place settings. Ivy was seated at Elinor’s left, and their wine glasses were refilled. Elinor rose to her feet and smoothed an imaginary crease from her bodice with one hand, her glass held before her in the other.
The clock ticked loudly in the otherwise silent room.
“Once again, we gather as a family at this important occasion. Let us not forget that in our remembrance our future lies. We have faithfully convened under the roof of Everdon Manor for four generations to fulfill the family legacy.” She paused dramatically. “As head of the Everdon family, I welcome you all, family members and dear old friends, who are as close to us as family.”
Her eyes moved from one to another, acknowledging each member of the group. Everyone held their glass by the stem, waiting for the conclusion of the toast. Ivy presumed this ritual did not differ from any other year’s salutation though she was uncomfortable as an outside witness to such an intimate family gathering.
Elinor’s eyes swept around the table, and coming full circle, her unwavering smile landed on Ivy.
“And to our special guest this year, Ivy Wylmot. Ivy, Everdon Manor welcomes you!”
As if on cue, they all rose to their feet, glasses raised.
Taken by surprise by more unexpected attention, Ivy’s cheeks flamed as everyone’s gaze shifted to her. She stood on stiff legs and her eyes flitted nervously around the table. They all watched her watching them, their expressions ranging from the elders’ thoughtful consideration to bemusement from her contemporaries. Their gazes turned to Elinor, who raised her glass higher.
“Welcome to Everdon Manor!” They chanted as a group and toasted her in unison before sitting down again.