The wizened ancient took her hand and studied it, a variety of expressions crossing her countenance. Ralph looked on with amusement and some anxiety but said nothing.
Finally the gypsy spoke, her voice a musical singsong. “You do not know your heart, but you shall. The past is buried but must be explained. Do not be afraid, for your heart has chosen wisely; your head must be guided by it.” She stopped speaking abruptly and honored Kate with a gap-toothed smile.
“Thank you,” Kate said, handing the woman a half crown. “I shall consider your words carefully.”
As they turned away, Ralph whispered, “I should think you’d have to. Couldn’t have meant a thing far as I can see.”
Kate’s brow puckered in a puzzled frown. “Perhaps not, but I feel she spoke directly to me.” Kate shrugged her thinly clad shoulders in a gesture of dismissal. “Let’s return. Mama will fret if we are long, and we make an early start in the morning.”
Ralph dismissed the gypsy from his mind immediately, but Kate tossed in her unfamiliar bed and considered the words thoughtfully. She could put only one interpretation on them, and this she refused to believe. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment even at contemplating such a thing. Oh, it is all nonsense, she told herself fiercely. How can I be such a pea-goose? Gypsies! I had as soon consult chicken scratchings. Nevertheless, it was several hours before she slept.
They made an even earlier start the second day, and Kate pointed out the gypsy encampment to Susan as the carriage labored up the steep and badly surfaced Forest Hill. Even as she spoke, the old gypsy fortuneteller, who was brewing something over an open fire, turned around and gazed directly at her, making a gesture of farewell. Kate returned the gesture with a smile and called Susan’s attention to the Savernake Forest of beeches and oaks which massed along the roadside. They had luncheon at the King’s Head in Thatcham and pushed on to the Bear at Maidenhead for dinner and the night. Susan had recovered her usual spirits by now and was not disturbed by Kate’s unusual silence.
On the third and last day of their journey to town Susan was unable to contain her excitement and Kate indulgently encouraged her, though she did not neglect to point out The Windmill on Salt Hill where the Four-in-Hand Club made their periodic grand parades nor fail to relate the grisly history of the Ostrich in Colnbrook. On the other hand Kate did not urge Ralph to allow her to drive his curricle over one of the stages as she had planned, though she did ride with him for the last few miles to arrive at the house in Brook Street ahead of the rest of the party.
Kate was pleased with the stately dark brick residence they now approached.
The exquisitely detailed wrought-iron fence and the two colonnades complemented the square stone lintels and the round and triangular pediments over the full-length windows. The entry was dignified without being overly imposing; the door opened as they arrived. Sampson descended the stairs with proper London gravity to welcome Kate and her brother, informed them that the servants’ carriage had arrived these two hours past, having made an earlier start, and that things were in a way to being ordered as quickly as possible.
The calm of the exterior was belied by the bustle within. Trucks and portmanteaux were being carried hurriedly from the entry hall to various rooms up the grand staircase. Kate wandered from room to room, impressed with how well Lady Stockton had done by them. The furniture was elegant and the decor subdued. It was the perfect atmosphere from which to launch Susan in society. Although the Montgomerys could make no pretentions to the haut ton, Lady Stockton was determined that under her patronage Susan should have the entree to all but the very grandest homes.
By the time the remainder of the family arrived, Kate and Butterfield had organized the proper distribution of the luggage, maids were hanging gowns in wardrobes, and footmen were looking to the dispersal of the servants’ belongings. The cook had already embarked on preparation of the evening meal, and meanwhile had produced a magnificent tea to revive the travelers.
“Such a delightful house!” Mrs. Montgomery exclaimed. “Not at all the sort of place available to be let in my day. I must write a note to Lady Stockton without delay to thank her.” She nibbled a biscuit as she appreciatively ran her eye over the admirable proportions of the drawing room, the marble fireplace, and the delicate plasterwork of the ceiling. Her sigh of contentment brought a grin to Susan’s expressive countenance.
“You know, Kate, Mama had rather expected shabby furniture and mice in the floorboards.”
“I’m not surprised. It is unnerving to let a house without seeing it,” Kate replied. “But we should have known that Lady Stockton would find the best to be had. Shall we walk in the park for a while? It is but a step, and it will give you some ideas for our shopping expedition tomorrow.”
“I should not go out in these rags,” Susan giggled, “but I cannot bear to sit here when there is so much to be seen. Give me ten minutes to look out a bonnet and mantelet.”
Their stroll in the park was overwhelming for Susan. Country-bred and never having been to London before, she was quite overcome by the ostentatious costumes sported there and somewhat amused by many of them.
“I know you’ll wish to be dressed in the first stare,” Kate informed her, “but I cannot see you choosing anything pretentious. There is one thing I would mention, though. In our neighborhood you have known all the men since you were born, and you can trust them to behave as they ought. But I beg you will be cautious here in town. There are charming rogues and handsome scapegraces. It is the mode for them to be flattering and well-mannered, and it is not easy to resist such attention.”
“I’m sure I could not,” Susan sighed.
“Let me tell you a trick I have always used. It is not infallible, but it has helped me more than once. I ask myself, ‘Would Papa approve of him?’ If the answer is no, it is no difficult matter to ease him off. If I can honestly say that Papa would approve of him, well, then I just enjoy myself, as you will. But you are a very attractive young woman, Susan, and you will have more young men to judge.”
Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a curricle driven by a jubilant Lord Norris. “Famous!” he cried. “I did not know you had arrived in town as yet, though I had been wondering how long I must wait to call when you did.” He jumped down from the curricle when his groom arrived at the horses’ heads.
“Charles, how nice it is to see a familiar face,” Kate greeted him.
Susan smiled shyly when he turned from her sister to take her hand. “We arrived only an hour or so ago, but Kate and I thought a walk in the park would be beneficial. And so it has been,” she concluded without giving any indication as to whether this approbation referred to the chance of fresh air, the sight of the current fashions, or the fortuitous meeting with Lord Norris himself.
“It must have been a slow and tiring journey with the whole household,” he commiserated. “How is your house?”
“I think we shall find it quite comfortable,” Susan replied. “In fact, it is lovely.”
“May I call tomorrow?” Charles asked, turning his gaze to Kate.
“Of course, but not early, for we shall be shopping a good part of the day. Come for tea late in the afternoon,” Kate suggested.
“I shall look forward to it. I must not keep the horses standing any longer,” Charles said, anxiously glancing at the prancing pair. “Give my regards to your parents and Ralph.”
When he had driven off Susan asked softly, “Would Papa approve of him?”
Kate smiled gently and took her sister’s hand to press it comfortingly. “Of course he would, goose. But you are both young, and it will do neither of you any harm to make sure of your minds. And to get a little town polish,” she added with a smile.
Susan said no more as they headed back toward the house, and Kate did not wish to interrupt her thoughts. Since it would be less than a year before Charles reached his majority, it did not really matter if Winterton approved the match, Kate thought. And, besides, she was proba
bly silly to have thought he would do so in any case.
* * * *
The first days of their stay flew by in a whirl of shopping, fittings, and making calls upon their acquaintances in the city. Kate immediately attended to the matter of finding a printer for the book and was excited at the prospect of returning home with the finished product. Ralph continued about his business absently, but did not speak to his sister about Charity. He haunted Tattersall’s and talked with every knowledgeable man about breeding horses; he drank sparingly and gambled occasionally with his former friends from London. When the entire family attended the theater with Lady Stockton’s party, they encountered Patrick O’Rourke.
He made his way with his usual astonishing speed to their box during the first intermission. One moment they noticed him across the way in a box with several other people, and the next he was at the door of their own box, greeting Kate eloquently.
“Miss Montgomery, sure an’ I’ve never seen a lovelier sight! Bewitching! And here have I been just this evening telling the leprechaun I found in my coach that you might come to London. He told me it was highly unlikely, so we made a small wager. I shall be pleased to inform him of my success.” The handsome young man grinned engagingly and finally released the hand which he had been pumping during his monologue.
“Ah, Mr. O’Rourke, ‘tis the blarney you have for sure,” Kate teased him. “Let me introduce you to Lady Stockton and the rest of the party.” When these introductions had been performed, and a great deal of easy flattery had poured forth, accepted in the spirit in which it was given, Kate found that Susan had not forgotten her plans for Mr. O’Rourke. She and Laura changed places inconspicuously while Kate and Mr. O’Rourke discussed various members of his large family. When he turned to include Susan in the conversation, a puzzled frown momentarily creased his brow, but he said politely, “And is this to be your first season?”
Laura, with black hair and green eyes, bearing no resemblance to the honey-blond, blue-eyed Susan, replied demurely, “Yes, sir, and I greatly look forward to it. Just being in London is a treat, after the country, you know.” Laura made her home in London and had not the slightest knowledge of country life other than visits to homes of friends there.
Mr. O’Rourke turned to Kate to inquire after her aunt, and Susan and Laura again switched places. The next time Mr. O’Rourke turned to that side he took one look at Susan, seated with her head modestly bowed, and returned his amused gaze to Kate. “‘Tis a pity you have disclosed my sole accomplishment to these young women, darlin’. I do so enjoy exhibiting it. Which of the dears has the honor of being your sister?”
Kate glanced past him to be sure no further change had occurred and informed him that Susan was now seated beside him. He turned to her with a laugh and said, “You are a naughty puss, and I feel sure we shall deal well together. I suppose this is your first season, too. ‘Tis a pity the season knocks all the liveliness out of such young dears,” he droned sadly, his eyes dancing.
“Oh, Laura, he has caught us already,” Susan declared with affected disappointment, and she beckoned her friend to join them.
“And so often we have been told we are as like as two peas in a pod,” Laura laughed.
“No more than the truth,” Mr. O’Rourke declared stoutly. “When the angels descend they radiate such a glow as one can only perceive their beauty and not the nature of it.”
“We are forewarned of your flattery, sir,” Laura retorted with a saucy wave of her fan and a mock flutter of eyelashes.
“I have you, no doubt, to thank for this deflation of my pretentions,” he grumbled to Kate. “You introduce me to two of the most beautiful women in London only to dash my hopes from the outset.”
“I have yet to see you despondent, Mr. O’Rourke,” Kate replied musingly. “It must be a most enlightening spectacle.”
“Ah, but then you did not see me when last we parted,” he rejoined quickly. “Me heart, once a burning sun, turned cold as the winter’s ice.”
“I am pleased to see that it has recovered its warmth,” Kate informed him.
The intermission was ending, and Mr. O’Rourke rose to take his leave, but not before he said, “'Tis only that you are by again, Miss Montgomery. May I call on you?”
“With pleasure, Mr. O’Rourke.”
When he had vanished after his own particular habit, Susan turned to her sister. “I like him. Is he always so full of flummery?”
“Yes, always. But he is so impudent about it that one cannot take it amiss and, frankly,” Kate admitted, “I find it very uplifting at times.”
Chapter 15
The next day brought a stream of visitors at tea time. Lord Norris made his restrained every-other-day call; Lady Stockton and Laura were there; all of the Montgomerys were home; and Patrick O’Rourke put in an appearance. Everyone was chatting and, thanks to Mr. O’Rourke, there was considerable laughter, when Sampson appeared at his most dignified to announce the Earl of Winterton.
Mrs. Montgomery dropped the biscuit she had just lifted, and Kate turned toward the door with a slight flush. She experienced an inexplicable pride when she saw him, resplendent in a brown broadcloth coat and kerseymere pantaloons, his Hessians and cravat so elegant that she scarcely recognized him. His eyes quickly searched the group and came to rest on her, and though his expression was no less arrogant than usual, there was an intensity in his gaze which caused her to feel decidedly flustered. The room suddenly seemed crowded to her, and yet he was the only person in it of whom she was aware.
As Mrs. Montgomery did not seem capable in her surprise of going forward to greet their guest, Kate assumed the responsibility, hesitantly offering him her cold hand. When he took it, he looked startled to find it so chilled in the warm room.
“Lord Winterton, how nice to see you. I had not thought you would be in town so soon. Are you completely recovered?”
“Yes, Thomas informs me that it was a mild case.”
“I am sure it did not seem so at the time,” she returned sympathetically, though it was necessary for her to bite her lip when she remembered his miserable, spotted face and prickly temper. “Come, let me introduce you to our friends.”
“I cannot stay. I came only to assure myself that you had no trouble finding a printer for the book.”
“Surely everyone here would like to meet you. Is your business so pressing?” she asked gently.
“No, of course not, but I do not wish to break up your party, Miss Montgomery. Your mother looked quite horrified when I was announced.”
“It was merely the surprise. We had not thought to see you in London.”
“Now I understand. If it had occurred to you, you could have instructed your butler to refuse me,” he quizzed her.
“Why, I do believe you have a sense of humor, Lord Winterton.” Kate relaxed somewhat and led him first to her parents and Lady Stockton, with whom he was acquainted through his mother. They progressed to Ralph, Susan, and Lord Norris, who was as incredulous as Mrs. Montgomery at finding his guardian at the Montgomerys’. In fact, it crossed his mind that Winterton had come specifically to seek him out for some reason, and he hurriedly scanned his mind for some misdemeanor.
His alarm was so clearly writ on his countenance that Kate took pity on him. “Lord Winterton has come to inquire after a matter of printing and can stay but a moment. You will excuse us, I hope, if I take him to meet the others.” Charles was delighted to do so, and Susan, who went in awe of Winterton, agreed with alacrity. Ralph, however, followed them to where Laura and O’Rourke were talking.
Winterton towered over O’Rourke, but this did not intimidate the elegant Irishman in the least. Laura studied Winterton’s rugged features and closed expression and compared them, unfavorably, with O’Rourke’s charming, good-natured countenance. She knew that Winterton was a neighbor of the Montgomerys in the country, but it surprised her that he should visit them in town.
Mr. O’Rourke, all unknowing, proceeded to open a very dang
erous subject. “I believe I met your brother Carl in London some years ago. A great fellow! How is he?”
Winterton’s expression became rather more grim than it had been, and Laura unconsciously shrank back from the group. “He died three years ago of a wound sustained in the Peninsula.”
Abashed at this revelation and the tension he felt in the group, Mr. O’Rourke exclaimed, “I am so sorry to hear it! My condolences. I didn’t know he had joined up. He made no mention of the possibility.”
“‘He joined the 5th Dragoon Guards in eleven,” Ralph offered helpfully, and attempted to keep his eyes from wandering to Kate, who maintained a stiff silence during the exchange.
Winterton, however, could not refrain from glancing at her, and she, impelled by his unspoken reproof, returned his look steadily and said softly, “We all miss Carl. He was a great friend of Ralph’s, you know.”
“We lost too many good men in the war,” Mr. O’Rourke declared. “And now the rest of the poor devils are home, they are more likely to starve than not.”
“Very true,” Winterton agreed. His grim look relaxed enough to show some interest in what the Irishman was saying. “Can you see any help forthcoming for them from the government?”
“Not a shred,” O’Rourke replied despondently. “The government is likely to ignore them altogether.”
Ralph fidgeted with his newly acquired quizzing glass, of which he was justly proud, and awaited an opportunity to engage Winterton’s attention. It was not in Ralph’s nature to be interested in those abstract masses he did not know; he reserved his ready, and very real, concern for those with whom he was acquainted, however scantily.
“I say, sir,” he finally interrupted. “Have you been to Tattersall’s since you came to town?” When the Earl patiently admitted that he had not, Ralph continued enthusiastically, “If you should go there, I hope you will have a look at Lord Cartwright’s chestnut. I’ve a mind to buy him for the farm, and I’d welcome your opinion.”
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