by Amanda Scott
“Oh, how very kind,” Miss Pellerin said, looking anxiously at Philippa. “You will like that prodigiously, my dear.”
Philippa was not at all satisfied by such a compromise, but she realized that she would only put his back up if she pressed her argument any further. That he had not immediately agreed to grant her wish was disappointing but scarcely sufficient cause to cast her into the dismals. She would come about. Therefore, she smiled sunnily at him and assured him that she would above all things enjoy riding out with his sisters.
“Did you say that you had brought the Lady Lucinda to call?” she asked then. “That was kind of you, sir. I know poor Jessalyn has been feeling moped all the weekend, thinking herself sadly neglected one moment and ill-used the next. Nor was she happy to be left with orders to improve her mind by memorizing improving verses both yesterday and today. I fear I am in danger of becoming known as a strict, uncaring stepmother.”
“Nonsense,” replied the viscount stoutly. “ ’Tis no more than either of those young ladies deserves after serving us all such a trick as they did. I should not have succumbed to Lucinda’s entreaties today, except that I was of a mind to call here in any event, and I could not very well leave her behind. At present, Wyvern Towers is scarcely a proper abode for a very young lady.”
“Is it not?” But even as the words were spoken, Philippa realized what he meant. “To be sure, sir, without either of your elder sisters in residence, there can be no proper female to bear her company.”
“She does not even have her own maid,” said Rochford, “I have instructed one of the maidservants to attend her, but the girl is a local and hardly what Lucy is accustomed to. I must arrange to send her back to Bath as soon as possible, and that is why I have come to you. It occurred to me that you might have some notion of how we could send them back together. I have my chaise, but unless I send my own man as well as the maid, I have no servant I would trust with such a minx as Lucinda. I thought perhaps you might know of someone who would answer the purpose.”
“I don’t,” Philippa said frankly. “Moreover, I must tell you, sir, that when I broached the subject of her return to Jessalyn, she pointed out that they will be but turning round again to come back here for Christmas. The Lady Elizabeth Manners is to remain at Belvoir until the new year, you see, which has put it into Jessalyn’s head to insist that she wishes to do likewise. Angry though I am with her, I cannot but see that it is the sensible course to follow.”
Rochford grimaced. “Very likely, but I can tell you it would mean putting my household at sixes and sevens to accommodate Lucinda.”
“I suppose she could come to stay here,” Philippa said slowly. She had not intended that her peaceful interlude should be disturbed by the antics of one young lady playing truant from school, let alone two.
But Rochford was already shaking his head. “That would not do, though you are kindness itself to offer. Such a plan would cut up all your peace. I suppose the sensible thing would be for me to hire a governess-companion for my sister, a good, strict one who would know how to keep her out of mischief. My father will be at Wyvern for Christmas, and will expect to see her there as well, so there can be no great objection to her remaining now if she might be properly attended. How do you suppose one goes about finding a governess in Leicestershire at this time of year?”
“I suppose we might inquire of the Duchess of Rutland. If she does not know of someone herself, I daresay she can tell us how to go about the business.”
“I could give them lessons, you know,” suggested Miss Pellerin calmly.
Philippa chuckled. “You would no doubt do them a great deal of good, ma’am, but if the Lady Lucinda is anything like our Jessalyn, they would be a sad trial to you. I doubt that Jess has two thoughts to rub together in that head of hers that do not have to do with young men and her future prospects.”
“Lucy, too,” said Rochford with a sigh. “A sillier chit I hope never to meet. Her ignorance would appall you, ma’am.”
“On the other hand,” said Philippa thoughtfully, “there is no reason that the pair of us could not undertake to instruct both girls in the sort of lessons they would have had at school. I am quite a dab at sketching, and I play the pianoforte well enough to help them with their practicing … that is, unless the Lady Lucinda plays upon the harp or some other instrument, sir. I confess I should be of little assistance to her in such a case.”
“I’m not by any means certain she plays a musical instrument at all,” said his lordship, grinning. “But, my dear ma’am, I have already said that I do not wish to impose upon your good nature, or Miss Pellerin’s, in such a way.”
“No, you said that you did not wish to burden me with your sister’s continued presence in my house,” Philippa said, smiling back at him and thinking it a pleasant exercise. “You see, sir, that I do not scruple to contradict a gentleman. My manners are not so nice as yours, I fear.”
“You choose to treat this matter lightly, Lady Philippa, but I do not see any reason for inflicting my sister upon you in any way.”
“Oh, but you are wrong, sir. Truly, if Jessalyn remains in Leicestershire, you would be doing me a favor to send the Lady Lucinda to us for lessons. Otherwise, I shall be my stepdaughter’s sole source of entertainment, and that, I must tell you, would not suit me at all. If Lucinda is here to bear her company, Jessalyn’s presence will be a pleasure. If she is to mope about, complaining that there is nothing to do, she will drive me demented.”
“Then you leave me with no more to say,” Rochford told her, his gray eyes resting warmly upon her, “for I should certainly not care to figure as your ticket to Bedlam. What do you propose?”
Finding it difficult to meet that gaze directly, she focused her eyes upon the uppermost button of his waistcoat and said briskly, rather as though she were relaying instructions to her footman, “If you can contrive to deliver Lucinda to us each morning and collect her again in the afternoon, I shall do my possible to see that her time with us is not ill-spent. Between us, Cousin Adeliza and I ought certainly to be able to set lessons for the girls in deportment, sketching, music, and perhaps even some botany, though what they will study outdoors at this time of year, I’m sure I cannot tell you.”
“Oh, I brought a lovely book that will serve us well in that regard,” said Miss Pellerin enthusiastically. “I showed it to you only the other day, Philippa, Mr. Culpepper’s Herbal. You will remember—a delightful book with the most detailed drawings of all manner of plants and flowers. The girls will be fascinated.”
Rochford chuckled. “You may contrive to fascinate Lucy with the pictures, ma’am, but if you can get her to read the text, you will truly have worked something of a miracle. I do not think she has read anything except for those dreadful romantic novels girls somehow contrive to get their hands upon no matter what precautions their elders take to prevent their doing so.”
“Nonsense, Rochford,” said Philippa in rallying tones, her amusement making it possible for her to meet his gaze again. “Surely she has read La Belle Assemblée and the Ladies’ Monthly.”
He grinned at her. “Indeed, ma’am, you are very right, and two sillier magazines for a fourteen-year-old chit I cannot conceive of. Only last evening she was informing me that I simply must send for a modiste to make her a pink gauze tunic dress to wear to parties. The one she showed to me within the pages of La Belle Assemblée would be quite amazingly improper on a married woman, let alone on a chit from the schoolroom.”
Philippa sighed, twinkling at him. “I know how it is, sir, for I promise you that Jessalyn can be quite as ridiculous. But, in point of fact, that is how young girls develop sartorial taste, you know. They will not distress me by poring over such stuff as that.”
“No, indeed,” said Miss Pellerin, “for you are quite correct, Philippa. In such a manner do they learn what is suitable and what is not. And if they enjoy magazines, my dear sir, I shall be only too happy to share my Literary Quarterly with them. There are ex
cellent tales to be read there, and every one of unexceptionable quality, I assure you.”
“I do not doubt it, Miss Pellerin, but I fear that even if you could convince Lucy to poke her nose into such a work, she would not understand the half of what she read.”
“Mercy me,” said Miss Pellerin.
“Just so,” returned his lordship with a grimace.
“Never mind all that,” Philippa put in, laughing at both of them. “There is no cause to repine, after all, for have we not just been saying that it does a lady little good to stuff her head full of great literature and learning? Both Jessalyn and Lucinda will do very well for themselves if we can but contrive to bring them to a better sense of what is acceptable behavior and what is not. We can do that very well, Cousin, and so you must admit.”
“Yes, of course, though it does seem a pity that they might never delve into anything more complex than a lady’s magazine,” said Miss Pellerin sadly.
“I think,” Rochford said with gentle tact, “that my sister will benefit merely by being sometimes in your company, ma’am.”
“Why, what a pretty compliment!” Miss Pellerin, flustered, smiled at him, then looked away as though she had been caught quite off her guard. “I venture to say, sir, that no one has said such a thing to me in thirty years. You are very kind.”
“Nothing of the sort,” he retorted, chuckling as he turned his quizzing gaze upon Philippa. “Only ask Lady Philippa if
I am kind. I suspect that she is still at outs with me over that little matter of the hunt. I hope, however, that she will find it in her heart to forgive me before many days have passed.”
“Don’t be absurd, sir, there is nothing to forgive save ignorance of my capabilities.” Since she had attempted to cover her surprise at such an accurate reading of her state of mind by speaking dampingly, she found it annoying to hear her words tumble over one another as if they were in a great rush to be said. Still, she could not seem to stop the spate, and went on, saying even more quickly, “I do not bear a grudge, however, and to prove it to you, I hope very much that you do not mean to go away immediately, but will stay—you and your sister both, of course—to take supper with us. We dine early, so you may be assured of getting back to Wyvern Towers soon after dark.”
He looked at her for rather a long moment, long enough in fact to bring a flush to her cheeks again, but then he grinned, succumbing to the invitation without a struggle. “To tell the truth,” he said ruefully, “my sister has put a rub in the way of my social activities. I can scarcely go hunting or even drive into Melton Mowbray for an evening’s revelry if it means leaving her to her own devices without so much as a sensible female to look out for her. Alvanley took supper with me last evening, so I have not been cut off entirely, but I must find someone soon—not a governess now, of course, for I do accept your generous offer and think it will answer very well—but someone whom I can trust to keep the chit out of mischief when I cannot be home of an evening.”
“Or when you are entertaining, sir,” Philippa said, dimpling. “It would not suit your notions of propriety, I venture to say, to look up from your carousing to find your sister, bright-eyed and fascinated, perched upon the stairway peeping between the balusters.”
“Indeed, it would not,” he admitted, adding gently, “but I do not carouse, my lady.”
“Then you have nothing to fear,” she retorted.
“Really, Philippa, you must not allow your sense of fun to lead you into making such improper statements,” said Miss Pellerin, shaking her head in amused exasperation. “Lord Rochford will think you raised in a cow byre. I am persuaded, my lord, that if you were to inquire at the village shop of Mrs. Thing—what was her name, Philippa, the old lady with the ringlets?”
Rochford chuckled. “Mrs. Haversett, of course, and a very good notion that is, ma’am, for I am sure she will know of someone who would come to the Towers to look after Lucy when I am not by, or when I am, for all that,” he added, grinning at Philippa.
“I must tell Bickerstaff that there will be extra covers to set,” she said, rising.
Miss Pellerin sighed “Indeed, and I hope there will be no need for him to discuss the matter at length with Cook, my dear.”
Rochford looked at her, then back at Philippa. “Lucy and I would be pleased to stay to supper, but I hope that does not mean we will be putting anyone out.”
“No, no,” Philippa reassured him, laughing again. “ ’Tis only that we have a new cook, and she is very jealous of her dignity. Would you believe it, sir, she insisted upon having a room of her own instead of sharing with the kitchen maid, who is a very good sort of girl, and Cook wanted her meals served to her in the housekeeper’s room, which of course did not suit Mrs. Bickerstaff’s notions of what was due to her exalted station.”
“Good Lord,” said Rochford, fascinated. “What did you do?”
“I simply informed Cook that she would take her meals in the kitchen in order that I might be assured that the rest of the staff was well looked after by someone they could respect, and I pointed out that Mr. and Mrs. Bickerstaff have been so accustomed to dining in privacy that I was persuaded she would feel out of place no matter what pains they took to make her welcome.”
Rochford nodded, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I make you my compliments, ma’am. A neat solution.”
“Well, I do not scruple to tell you that it taxed my patience, sir. I do not like Cheltenham drama amongst my servants, and I was sorely tempted to send Cook packing, but one does not do in Leicestershire that which one would have no qualm about doing in London. I do not like to cook.”
“Gracious, do you know how?”
She nodded. “My mama had some odd notions about how daughters ought to be raised, you see. I daresay it comes of being kin to Cousin Adeliza, for they are first cousins, you know. But Mama insisted I should know as much as any of my house servants about managing a house. So I can cook and do plain sewing as well as fancy stichery, and I even know a weed from a flower in my garden, though I confess I do not know much more.”
“That sounds like quite a lot to me,” said Rochford. “My papa and your mama might have a few things in common, for he insisted that I should know all about our estates, and said that I could scarcely order a groom to do a chore that I knew not how to accomplish myself.”
“Well,” Philippa said with a laugh, “when Wakefield taught me to manage his affairs, he did not go so far as that, I am thankful to say, but I do know that gentlemen are often taught such things.”
“Yes,” agreed her cousin, “and you, my dear, were fortunate to have such a wise mama, for I have always thought it the oddest of circumstances that women who wish to marry their daughters off to dukes or earls have never given them the least notion of how to manage a great estate. Imagine if Rutland had married a silly wench with no more notion of how to go on than most, instead of Elizabeth Howard, who although she must have deplored her papa’s tyrannical ways, must always be grateful that she received the benefit of his deep interest in fanning and land management. Why, Rutland would scarcely have time for his hunting if all the burden of renovating Belvoir and running three large estates had fallen to his shoulders alone. Not but what, with his mama for an example, he would be most unlikely to have been attracted to a girl with no gumption.”
“No, indeed, ma’am,” said Rochford, his eyes twinkling. “Believe me when I say that I should take it most kindly if you were able to instill some notions of household management and habits of economy into my sister whilst you have the opportunity. One thing I did not mention about that gown from the magazine is that it would cost three hundred guineas, if it cost a shilling, to have it made up. She has informed me, moreover, that the allowance Papa makes her is too small to allow her to contrive at school. What on earth can she find to spend money on in Bath?”
Both Philippa and Miss Pellerin laughed heartily at his confounded look and proceeded to list for him those things which a young lady in Bath mig
ht certainly wish to buy. As she aided her cousin in this endeavor, Philippa remembered at last to pull the bell and inform Bickerstaff that there would be guests for dinner. When the butler had gone away again, the conversation continued in an amiable vein until they were joined by the two younger ladies, who exclaimed their excitement at learning that they were not, after all, to be returned to their seminary but might, if they were good, remain in Leicestershire until after Christmas. After that, it was not long before Bickerstaff stepped into the library to announce that dinner had been served in the dining room.
Altogether, Philippa decided as Alice, her abigail, helped her to prepare for bed that night, the afternoon and evening had gone very well. The viscount and his sister had proved to be excellent company. Indeed, she could not remember having enjoyed a more relaxed, more amusing occasion. As she pulled the eider quilt up to her chin, she recalled the way the viscount’s gaze had so often and so tenderly come to rest upon her, and she lay back against her pillow, believing that time would be her friend. Not for long would such a warmhearted man be able to deny her her greatest wish.
—7—
DESPITE HEAVY RAINS AND STRONG winds during the night, Wednesday morning dawned bright and sunny, and warm enough so that when Philippa stepped out onto the park-front terrace before breakfast there was steam rising from the lawn and a strong scent in the air of decaying leaves from the borders and the nearby park. Gathering the train of her russet-colored riding habit, she hurried down the gray stone steps to the gravel path that led across the northwest corner of the garden to the stable pavilion. She had sent word ahead that she wished to ride, so her groom, Jake Pottersby, had her covert hack saddled and ready for her.