Their mother admonished, "Caroline! Katherine! Tell me all about it later. You must welcome your cousin Roderick, who is now Earl of Selchurch, you know. Come Linnet, Eve, Pauline - show your cousin how gracefully you can perform your curtsies."
While these grave amenities were conducted, with reciprocal bows from their cousin, the eldest daughter entered the room. She was a budding beauty, with the large blue eyes of her mother and a wavy corn colored mane that reached to the small of her back. Her chubbiness was a thing of the past.
Miss Stride followed close on her heels, with one arm round Sophie's thin shoulders. Sophie's face looked flushed and angry. After Lady Arabelle, the eldest daughter, had been introduced, Miss Stride declared rather ruefully, "The Tempest raged a little too realistically. You will find my talents as a fill-in governess lacking, Lady Selchurch."
Lady Selchurch waved her hand deprecatingly. "A minor squall, I'm sure, my dear. You should have got them playing their instruments." She turned to Roderick. "You must know that Miss Stride has taught the children music over the years, and is a tremendous favorite with them. She is particularly adept at the harp, isn't that so, my dear?"
"The harp!" Roderick slapped his forehead in self-disgust. "Miss Stride - Miss Charlotte Stride, of course! I apologize for a horrendous memory lapse. I should be drummed out of the diplomatic service! I nearly drowned you in the pond - a double injury to forget about it. Even then you entertained us on the harp. I remember. It was bigger than you were."
Miss Stride's lips bent into a mocking smile. "So many years ago it was."
Lady Selchurch felt bound to affirm, "Miss Stride is our local Parson Stride's daughter. Arabelle is to stand up with her at her wedding at the end of July. I know we are in mourning, but it will be quite a small local ceremony. I thought it unexceptional to allow her to participate, Charlotte being such an old friend. Besides Belle was set on it. There was no saying 'no.' The groom's sister, an excessively good-natured girl by all accounts has made no objections, she being so much taller than Miss Stride."
She drew the smaller children to her and had a few moments intimate talk with them. After dispensing wafers from the tea tray, she sent them up to bed, promising to come up to hear their prayers soon. At this point the butler brought his mistress the information that the parson's gig had arrived to take Miss Stride home.
Roderick had been making up for his earlier lapse by felicitating Charlotte Stride and learning that she was to wed a squire in the next county, Sir Ivor Valliant by name.
"I trust I shall have an opportunity of meeting your future husband, Miss Stride," remarked Roderick, rising as she made her way towards the door.
Lady Selchurch spoke from her seat by the fireplace. "In a few weeks, we will welcome both Sir Ivor and Miss Valliant to Bishop's Rise, I assure you, dear Charlotte. Come here, Sophie! Sit beside me! As you will be staying for a little while, I'd like to get to know you better. Try some refreshment! Our macaroons here at the Rise are quite special! After that we'll take you to your chamber. You must be tired after your journey."
Prompted by her nervous glance, Roderick explained, "You will be staying with Lady Selchurch for a little while. I know she will take good care of you. Tomorrow I must post on north to visit my mother. I shall be gone just a short while."
"But why are you posting?" put in Lady Selchurch. "Use Basil's carriage. Naturally, it is at your service."
And so it was arranged. The following morning, Roderick paid off the postilion. The late earl's chaise was brought to the door with four horses harnessed up and a coachman placed at his disposal. Sophie maintained a stoical mien, as she waved him farewell. That knot seems to hold, he thought to himself as the coach bowled away. Maybe he could extend his visit to a fortnight. Nothing untoward was likely to occur in the meantime.
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About The Author
Fran Keighley has worked everywhere from a Chicago detective agency to an advertising agency specializing in funeral home accounts to radio and television stations as copywriter and continuity director, before going into business for herself in a small town.
Upon selling the business and relocating, she hoped to have ample time to unpack, clean and mop and vacuum, but unfortunately, reading and writing, crocheting and cuddling pets, traveling and eating out, prevent her from achieving that ambition.
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Publisher info:
Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears,
Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks
www.ltdbooks.com
Table Of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Murder for the Mayor
Earl for a Season
About The Author
Publisher info:
Fran Keighley Page 22