The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series)

by Georgina Young-Ellis

  Before the evening was over, those remaining gathered around the fire to tell stories and sing songs. Everyone was drunk on wine and ale. Ben and Cassandra sat close, but did not test the limits of their momentary freedom. She was sad that she could not invite these people, who were now welcoming her with open arms, to her upcoming party. If she could design the experiment again, she might consider placing herself amongst this crowd. But she needed the independence that could only be bought with money.

  ******

  The high society of Selborne Parish had been abuzz with news of the garden party at Sorrel Hall since the invitations had gone out nearly two weeks ago. The American was finally giving a party!

  Though the day started out dreary and wet, by the time the guests were arriving at four o’clock, the sun had broken through, the air was tolerably warm, and the ground was beginning to dry. The servants rushed around drying off the outdoor furniture as the visitors poured through the front doors and out the back through the conservatory, onto the veranda and the great lawn beyond. Tea and light sandwiches were served on the veranda where tables and chairs awaited the ladies and gentleman who only wanted to relax and observe the festivities. The young children ran to play croquet, knocking the balls all about in spite of the efforts of their governesses to help guide them through the wickets. The older children played at badminton and cricket, and the young men and women wandered out and around the parkland.

  Cassandra was standing at the top of the lawn, looking out over the scene before her, and observing her guests as they settled in. Glancing back toward the house, she spied Lady Holcomb exiting onto the veranda from the conservatory through the glass doors that were thrown open wide. She was dressed in a light, lilac-colored muslin gown, looking young and fresh. Cassandra herself had chosen an off-white, silky cotton with green trim, reminiscent of a Grecian toga.

  “Cassandra!” Lady Holcomb called as she approached. “Thank goodness about the weather!”

  “Yes,” Cassandra replied when her friend reached her. “I was in a panic about it this morning, but I guess my little party was meant to be after all.”

  “Sorrel Hall has never looked more beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte, though I can hardly take the credit. My household staff is beyond compare.”

  “I agree; you are fortunate in that respect. Though I do quite well with my modest contingent, I think.”

  “Absolutely. Your home is always impeccable, and your table always beautiful and sumptuous.”

  “Sumptuous! My, there’s a word. Listen, my dear, I have to tell you, I had a note from Lady Charles. She said to tell you that she would not be here today. She was not feeling herself, she said, but she is sending her daughter and niece in her stead.”

  As if on cue, the two young ladies sauntered out onto the veranda, and were immediately pounced upon by James, who seemed to have been keeping a lookout for them. The three young people scampered off together up the hill to the gazebo.

  “Ah, I see they have arrived.”

  “Did Lady Charles say what was the matter?” asked Cassandra with as much concern as she could muster.

  “Only that she was having an attack of nerves and was not up to such a crowd.”

  Cassandra sensed there was something Charlotte wasn’t telling her.

  “She was having an attack of nerves, or she was not feeling well?”

  “Oh, I do not know, something like that, you know how she is. She also made apologies for Sir Robert, but of course, this kind of gathering is not really to his taste.”

  Cassandra felt herself bristle at hearing the name mentioned.

  “Well, I am just happy that you are here, Charlotte, and that you have brought Jane. Where is she, by the way?”

  Lady Holcomb looked around. “There.” She pointed up at the gazebo. Jane had joined James and the other two young ladies, and Cassandra was certain that her son was gratified at being amongst the company of three such devoted admirers.

  “I have to tell you though, Cassandra,” continued Lady Holcomb, “I may not stay long myself. I am afraid I feel a headache coming on. Perhaps you would make sure Jane is properly escorted home when the time comes.”

  “Certainly,” Cassandra replied. “But my dear Charlotte, come have a seat here at a table in the shade, let me get you a cool glass of lemonade. I am so sorry you are not feeling well either.”

  “Oh, thank you,” said the lady, taking Cassandra’s arm and allowing herself to be led to a small, wrought iron table on the veranda, where a servant awaited her. “But I think I would rather just have a cup of tea, if it is all the same to you.”

  “Of course,” said Cassandra nodding to the servant who had overheard the request. She didn’t think Lady Holcomb looked the least bit ill, but rather quite robust. She let the matter lie.

  “Now, my dear, please do not fuss over me,” Lady Holcomb uttered weakly. “You must mingle with your guests. Leave me here to sip my tea, and I am sure I shall be fine.”

  “Well, if you are certain.”

  “Absolutely. I do not want to distract you from your duties as hostess.”

  “I do need to say hello to Mrs. Moore.”

  “Do not give me another thought. I shall be right here. At least for a little while longer.”

  “All right, but do not leave until you say goodbye.”

  “Of course not,” said Lady Holcomb, gently waving her away.

  Cassandra was puzzled. Was she being shunned by Lady Charles, and was Lady Holcomb following her lead? It concerned her somewhat, but she had other things to think about. Most of the other guests had now arrived, and everyone had had a chance to eat and drink and look about as they pleased, and Cassandra had greeted them all in due fashion. Presently, she heard someone mention the lake, and soon the young people were filing down toward it from where they had been scattered about the grounds. They gathered by the boats and paired up.

  Cassandra strolled down to the water to see how it would play out. Before long, James and Elizabeth Charles were skimming out across the water, followed by Jane and Edward. Jane laughed with excitement as Edward rowed dangerously close to James’ boat, then steered away at the last minute before crashing into it.

  Eunice looked forlorn, standing at the edge of the lake by herself, but then a handsome young man that Cassandra had seen at the ball, Thomas White, offered to take her out. She clapped her hands in acceptance. Cassandra observed that in the six months since Eunice had been with the Charles family, she had filled out. Her cheeks were pinker, and her eyes had more sparkle. Her life before coming to Hampshire had probably been spent breathing the sooty Birmingham air, Cassandra imagined, but four months in the country, and two amongst the fashionable environs of London, had made a difference. Though a year younger than her cousin, she was beginning to catch up with her in looks.

  The boy who had asked Eunice to row was a nephew of Gilbert White and resided at the home were that famous scientist once lived. Though Cassandra continued to admire the Wakes, she was still not on familiar terms with the family and was happy to see that a representative thereof had accepted her invitation.

  There were some brother and sister teams out on the boats, Cassandra noticed. The second and third eldest of the Clarkes went out together, as did that family’s thirteen-year-old twin boys. The two Moore sisters were intrepidly rowing by themselves. At twenty-one and twenty-three, they were in danger of becoming spinsters. They were freckly and buck-toothed, gangly and giggly, and appeared to Cassandra somewhat empty headed. But their fortunes were large, so, although she felt a little sorry for them, she figured that a couple of desperate gentlemen would eventually snatch them up.

  Some of the other adults came down to watch the water sport, including Ben, who had arrived late. He smiled at Cassandra, but didn’t approach her. He waved to someone out on the water, and Cassandra looked to see who it was. Jane Holcomb waved back, a pretty smile on her face, cheeks flushed pink in spite of the shade of her bonnet.


  Edward looked over his shoulder and saw the object of Jane’s salutation, then turning back, gave the boat a rock with his hips. Jane squealed and Cassandra wondered how deep the lake was where they were, way out in the middle. She had a moment of panic. If it were deep, and the boat toppled over, Jane’s skirts would drag her down, and she doubted if the girl knew how to swim. The Clarke twins, Randall and Ralph, saw their brother’s antics and began to rock their boat as well.

  The twins’ boat tipped over with a splash. Cassandra ran to the edge of the lake, ready to rip off her dress and dive in. But the next second, the two carrot-tops popped up, splashing each other and laughing, shoulder-deep in the water. Cassandra sighed in relief, knowing that the water was shallow. The ladies in the boats shrieked to get away from the splashing, so the gentlemen rowed in closer to get them wet, while Mrs. Clarke stood on the shore and shouted angrily to the boys to come in and dry off. They ignored her as everyone else stood by laughing.

  As the sun went down, the air cooled and the guests started to drift inside. The Clarke twins had been sent home to bed, but the other guests were dry enough to stay. Supper was served at seven in the dining room, but the visitors scattered about the house to eat, as the dining room only sat sixteen. On the side table, laid out like a buffet, was more of the bounty of the harvest: roasted wild turkey, venison, mutton, ham, freshly caught, baked trout, meat pies, boiled new potatoes sautéed in butter and garden herbs, baked noodles in a casserole, tomato and cucumber salad, mashed butternut squash, plates of cheeses and breads, fruits and nuts from the orchards, and a three-tiered vanilla cake garnished with fresh peaches—all served with the utmost style and elegance. There were the best wines from the cellar, part of Cassandra’s rental agreement with the Collins, and home-brewed ale.

  There was a call for music, and Cassandra was in the mood to oblige. The guests gathered in the sitting room while Cassandra entertained them with some popular tunes on the piano. Soon toes were tapping, and James suggested a dance in earnest. There was a small spinet piano in the conservatory for just such occasions, with a stack of sheet music for dancing. Everyone convened in the large room, and the servants moved the sparse furniture to the walls while the young people paired off. Cassandra launched into a favorite country dance, and James led the way with Elizabeth. These dances he now knew well enough. Everyone was stepping, jumping, clapping, bowing, linking arms and hands—all the variations of the familiar dances. Cassandra played with enthusiasm, delighted to see her son and all his friends having such a wonderful time. She thought that he probably had never imagined such simple, uncomplicated fun could be had, and honestly didn’t know when she’d last seen him so happy. She glanced around for Ben, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  After she had played another few dances, she heard a small commotion and realized that Ben was standing by the spinet, taking his violin out of his case. He must have sent a servant for it. A crowd was gathering round, so she finished up her song and looked up at him in wonder.

  “I thought I would accompany you,” he said with a smile. There was clapping all around, and the dancers formed sets again. They began another country dance, suddenly made all the livelier by what could only be called fiddling in the style of Mr. Overstreet. Cassandra had never heard Ben play like this, and she laughed in delight. They performed more pieces until Cassandra was finally worn out. Ben then took the music over on his own, fiddling to shouts of enjoyment, and applause.

  When the dancers had also tired, Ben treated them to a final piece, a beautiful and haunting solo violin concerto by Vivaldi that she had never heard him play before. The guests were entranced, and when he was done, they all realized that the evening had reached its conclusion, and slowly took their leave as each carriage came round to collect its family. As Ben departed, he gazed into Cassandra’s eyes and kissed her hand. She felt there had been a breakthrough. They had played together in public, and it was accepted. And he was accepted as a musician in Selborne Society.

  ******

  September 12, 1820 – Well the party went off perfectly without a hitch. The last of the stragglers have finally gone, the Charles girls among them with Jane, whom they gave a ride home in their carriage. I realized as they were leaving that Lady Holcomb left without saying goodbye as she had promised. When Jane came to bid me farewell and thank me for the evening, I asked her to send her regards to her mother and tell her I hoped she was feeling better. The girl flushed, and stammered and said she would, then was whisked out the door by her friends before I had the chance to say anything more. It was odd behavior and it makes me uncomfortable. Did Charlotte not want to be here? What on earth is going on with that woman?

  Chapter 12

  October 5, 1820—The harvest is still underway throughout the county, and the smell of smoked meats and freshly cut hay hover in the air. I am outside on the veranda, looking out over the landscape of changing leaves in the bright afternoon light. I am so charmed by the loveliness of the season I can hardly bear it. I remember that long ago, at my parents’ Hudson Valley home, autumn brought these feelings, of skies so blue they shimmered, of a cozy sweater after the shorts and t-shirts of summer, of going to pick pumpkins at the local farm, the smell of leaves burning, climbing on haystacks, staying inside with my mother to bake. When did I lose that awareness that the change of season was special and sacred?

  I am seeking refuge, at the moment, from the busy Selborne social calendar that is in full swing. James is out for a ride with his new group of friends, having thrown himself into the fall activities wholeheartedly. It seems every the day he is out on horseback either by himself or with friends in a curricle to visit some interesting site or another. He has befriended Edward Clarke and Thomas White and sometimes they go hunting together and joke about James’ bad luck with a kill (they have decided that Americans just weren’t born to hunt). Nearly every evening he has a card party, supper, or impromptu dance to attend.

  I join occasionally in the events and outings that include the older people, but I prefer my quiet nights, usually spent with Ben—he will be here soon for an evening of music and dinner. Often we just talk or read to each other by the fire, or go for walks under the moonlight. I am beginning to see how this companionship could easily turn into a life together. I cannot think about the inevitable a few months off. I realize now that his is not the only heart that will be breaking.

  ******

  As if on cue, Ben came walking through the doors of the conservatory. Cassandra hurriedly shut her journal and rose to meet him. They walked back through the house, Cassandra detouring into the office where she could deposit the journal in the desk under lock and key. She then met him at the front door and they proceeded out onto a section of the grounds where she wanted to show him a cluster of mushrooms and get his opinion on whether or not they were edible. They had bent down near a birch tree and were examining the fungi, when they perceived the rattle of a carriage. They looked up to see Lady Holcomb’s approaching at a clip. They were easily within view of the drive and stood up with a start. Cassandra moved away, hoping they hadn’t been seen conferring so closely together. The carriage slowed—she was too late. It rolled to a stop, and the footman hopped down to help Lady Holcomb descend. Her face appeared stern as she waved to Cassandra, more a beckoning than a greeting. Cassandra and Ben hurried over to her, and Ben took the lady by the arm as they walked to the house.

  “I am here to tell you,” she said to Cassandra after they had exchanged greetings, “That the young people: your son, my daughter, Miss Charles, Miss Fairchild, and Mr. Clarke, have been eagerly discussing a plan to travel to Bath for a fortnight. This is usually the season when Lady Charles goes, and I often partake of the waters there for a few weeks in the autumn myself. She and I spoke yesterday, and we thought it was a good scheme. What do you think? We insist upon having you as a part of the group.”

  Her tone seemed to have shifted from the easy pleasantness of just a few weeks ago. There was somethin
g of Lady Charles’ imperiousness in it.

  “Well,” Cassandra began, “it has been a great desire of mine to see Bath, and I would love to take advantage of the opportunity. I am honored by the invitation.” She was aware of how formal she sounded. “And what about Mr. Johnston here,” she ventured, “Is he included in the invitation?”

  “Of course, if he should wish it,” Lady Holcomb said, turning her head with a forced smile to acknowledge him.

  “I will certainly consider the invitation, thank you,” returned Ben pleasantly.

  They were nearly at the entrance to Sorrel Hall, and Ben detached himself from Lady Holcomb’s arm. “Let me leave you here, if you do not mind. I have some business I must attend to at home. I am sure you would enjoy a chat alone together.”

  Cassandra nodded her farewell to him. He took Lady Holcomb’s hand and kissed it gallantly, and when the lady’s head was turned, winked at Cassandra. Her heart sank as she watched him walk away to the stables.

  Cassandra led Lady Holcomb into the sitting room and rang for Mary to take their wraps and bring in the tea things. She and her friend took two chairs by the fire.

  “Charlotte,” she said simply, “will you please tell me what is going on?”

  “Why, whatever do you mean, Cassandra?” The lady fluttered her handkerchief around her neck. “You startle me with that terribly direct manner of yours.”

  “You do know what I mean. Your attitude toward me has changed as of late. You seem cold and disapproving, not like the warm and friendly Charlotte Holcomb that I have come to love so much.”

  “My dear, there certainly has been no intention on my part of seeming distant. But Lady Charles has lately been sharing with me her opinion of you and your friend Mr. Johnston, and, well, I have to say, I see her point.”

  Cassandra struggled to hold in her anger. “And what exactly is that opinion?”