“I shouldn’t think so,” Nell replied in her prosaic way. “That man is as young as your godson, and the earl is reputed to be elderly. Sixty if he is a day.”
“I’m sixty, and I do not consider myself elderly, young lady.”
“No, well, women age so much more gracefully than men, don’t you think?”
“No, I do not,” her aunt snapped. She rose from the bench and headed for the Grand Parade. “Come along. I have a great desire to peek in the windows of Bath society—as I’m sure one of your guidebooks would suggest.”
Nell didn’t argue with her aunt, but hastened to catch up with the determined spinster. She was not, in fact, averse to seeing what curtains and furniture she could spy through the charmingly glazed windows of the houses, though she knew that her aunt was merely ridiculing her curiosity. Since most of the draperies were closed, even on such a glorious spring day, there was little to see after all—except for her aunt’s surprisingly intense perusal of one of the nearer houses along the sweep of road.
“Does someone you know live here?” Nell asked, puzzled.
“I know almost no one in Bath,” her aunt responded, glaring.
“And yet we have already met your godson,” Nell pointed out. “What a strange coincidence that was, to encounter him in the lending library. Such a pleasant young man.”
“Much you know,” Aunt Longstreet grumbled. “He’s like all men, untrustworthy, self-absorbed and ramshackle.”
Nell laughed. “Oh, I hardly think that can be true, ma’am. He was most accommodating, I thought. And only consider your own papa, so far as castigating all men goes—he was not the least untrustworthy or self-absorbed. And to think him ramshackle would be most impertinent.”
“Yes, yes, my father was indeed a worthy gentleman. But probably only because his generation had some respect for their consequence and responsibilities.” She waved an all-encompassing hand to indicate the male population of Bath. “Fellows today don’t show the least dependability. Life is one long round of pleasure-seeking for the lot of them.”
There was movement at the door of the house her aunt had been observing, and Aunt Longstreet immediately turned aside and started to thump off down the pavement. They heard brisk steps behind them after a few moments, and an older gentleman tipped his hat and said a pleasant “Good morning!” to them as he passed by. Aunt Longstreet had turned her head away, but Nell returned the greeting with a smile.
“You see,” she said to her aunt when the walker was beyond hearing, “another gracious gentleman.”
“Hah!” Her aunt squinted after the man, her hand gripped tight around the head of her cane. “You are easily duped by a kind word, Helen. Sometimes the most villainous men have a smile and a pleasantry. You must learn to be more discriminating.”
“Yes, Aunt Longstreet,” she said. “Shall I see if I can find you a sedan chair?”
“Certainly not! I’m quite capable of walking the few blocks to Queen Square.”
Though this proved to be true, Nell could tell that her aunt had spent her burst of energy well before they arrived at their residence. As they traversed the last few yards, with Nell’s pace slowed considerably to accommodate Aunt Longstreet, they observed a small procession arriving from the opposite direction. This consisted of a beautiful young woman in the most fetching bonnet Nell had ever seen, a footman in livery who was drawing a small wagon behind him, and in the wagon a child of a very young age, swathed in blankets and cap as though prepared for a snowstorm. A nursery maid trotted along behind the wagon.
The group stopped before the door of the Aunt Longstreet’s rented house, and the footman proceeded to ply the brass knocker. Woodbridge, their butler brought from Westmorland, answered the door almost immediately. By this time, however, the young lady had spied Nell and her aunt approaching, and she exclaimed, “Why, here they are! Miss Longstreet, you will scarce remember me, it has been so long since we met.”
“Well, who are you?” Aunt Longstreet demanded, frowning. “If you know I won’t remember you, why don’t you offer me your name, girl?”
Startled by this bluntness, the girl blinked and said, “I was about to. I am Emily Holmsly, ma’am, your godson Hugh’s sister.”
“Didn’t know he had a sister,” she snapped.
“Now, Aunt Longstreet, of course you will remember that we received word of Miss Emily’s marriage to Mr. Holmsly almost two years ago now.” Nell offered a hand to the young woman. “How do you do, Mrs. Holmsly? We had the great pleasure of meeting your brother yesterday.”
“Pleasure! Bah!” Aunt Longstreet muttered as she allowed Woodbridge to assist her into the house. “A pot of tea is what we need,” she insisted to her niece.
Nell acknowledged this request and added to the butler, “If you would have them bring cups for three, please, Woodbridge, and some of the macaroons cook baked yesterday.”
As Mrs. Holmsly was gathering the child from its wagon and obviously intended to follow them into the house, Aunt Longstreet stared suspiciously at her. “I’m not in favor of children,” she said. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Why, he’s a boy,” Mrs. Holmsly informed her, peering into her son’s face with a good deal of besotted affection. “Most people can tell right away, can’t they, Walter? They just get one look at your handsome face and they know you’re going to be the most wonderful, roll-and-tumble little boy, don’t they?”
Aunt Longstreet grimaced. “You’ll have to take him away if he cries. I can’t stand crying.”
Mrs. Holmsly looked helplessly at Nell, who said, “We’ve had a long walk, ma’am, and my aunt is a little fatigued.” Her eyes hinted that there was nothing unusual in her aunt’s behavior, but she did no more than offer a slight shrug. “Your child’s name is Walter? What a lovely, strong name for a boy.”
“We named him after my papa, you know,” Emily Holmsly explained as she settled herself on the Egyptian sofa with the baby in her lap. “We might have named him after Hugh, but feared there would be some confusion eventually. My husband has no opinion of handing down his own name to his son. There is much too great a confusion in that.”
“Oh, indeed,” Nell agreed, taking a seat not far from their guest.
Aunt Longstreet eyed the child with disfavor. “He seems a great deal too young to be jauntering about the city. He’s bound to catch cold.”
“On such a beautiful day?” Nell protested. “And bundled up as he is? Oh, I shouldn’t think so.”
“But then what knowledge have you of children?” her aunt demanded.
“None whatsoever,” Nell admitted, unintimidated, “but he looks quite a hearty soul.”
“Oh, he is!” Emily assured them. “It is not my intention to allow him to be mollycoddled, either. Taking him out into the fresh air, and letting him see the world outside of his nursery, are great objects with me. I have had a few disagreements with the nursery maid, mind you, but that is because she is not a progressive sort of girl. Still, she has a great deal of experience for one her age, as she was with my husband’s older sister for five years.”
“How comforting,” Nell murmured, since her aunt looked about to say something critical. “Ah, here’s our tea. I’ll pour, Woodbridge.”
“I should certainly hope so,” Aunt Longstreet grumbled. When she was handed her cup of tea, just the way she liked it with a healthy dollop of milk and three lumps of sugar, she sat back in her chair with a sigh. Nell thought perhaps she looked a little peaked after the long excursion and took it upon herself to entertain their guest until the tea should a little revive her aunt.
Since Emily Holmsly was a frequent visitor to Bath, she had a great number of suggestions for the amusement of Miss Longstreet and her companion. Miss Longstreet paid not the least heed to her chatter. She sipped her tea noisily and thrust the cup out for a second helping when it was empty. Then, without the slightest warning, she fell asleep. Nell only just rescued her aunt’s cup in time to keep it from falling, having
been distracted by the baby’s excited gurgling. She wrapped a shawl about her aunt’s knees and motioned to Emily to follow her into the next room, closing the door behind them.
“She was quite exhausted from our walk,” Nell explained. “I offered to procure a sedan chair for her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Never mind. She’ll sleep there for half an hour and wake quite refreshed.”
“You take good care of her,” Emily commented as she removed another layer of her baby’s clothing. “She could not be an easy woman to live with.”
“Oh, it’s not so difficult. I’ve been with her for some ten years now, and we’ve learned to accommodate one another.”
Emily looked skeptical, but said nothing further on the subject. Instead she questioned Nell about her family, or lack of it. Nell admitted that both her parents had been dead for some years, and that she’d come to Longstreet Manor at the age of fifteen ostensibly to assist in caring for Aunt Longstreet’s father in his declining days.
“I used to play checkers with him or read aloud for hours at a time,” she said. “He was a fine old gentleman. Did you know him, Mrs. Holmsly?”
“Oh, please, call me Emily. And, yes, I did meet him once or twice, though I could not really claim an acquaintance with him. I believe he left his entire estate to Miss Longstreet. Imagine! Since he had two daughters, I should have thought he would have divided it in some manner so that you would have received your mother’s share.”
“My mother’s parents disapproved of her marriage.”
“Nonetheless, they could have provided for you,” Emily insisted. “How very odd that they did not.”
“It is of no consequence,” Nell assured her. “I make my home with Aunt Longstreet, and it is a very comfortable home.”
Emily looked skeptical. “But she won’t live forever—and what will become of you then? Oh, of course, she will leave her property to you, to be sure.”
“It is my understanding,” Nell said carefully, “that your brother is Aunt Longstreet’s heir.”
“Well, she must surely have made provision for you, Miss Armstrong! If not out of familial bonds, then out of gratitude for your service to her.”
The baby had begun to fuss and Nell held out her arms. Without thinking, Emily entrusted little Walter to her companion and watched as Nell kissed his plump cheeks and cooed, “Who’s a good boy, then? Did you like your ride in the wagon, bumping over the cobbles? I should think that would be very amusing for a little fellow like you.”
“Yes, he quite likes to be taken for a ride. But, Miss Armstrong,..."
"Nell, if you please. What a handsome boy he is! How old is he now?"
“Four months. But, Nell…”
“Four months! Why, I would have taken him for six, he’s such a stout fellow. His papa must be very proud.”
“Yes, indeed! He already has plans for when Walter is old enough to ride, and play at sports. I believe he would already be keeping his eyes open for a pony if he weren’t constantly reminded that it will be years before Walter is ready to ride. But, Nell…”
“Well, years pass very quickly. In just a few months he’ll be crawling, and then walking, and before long he will indeed be ready for his first pony. I am very fond of riding myself, though I did not learn until I came to Longstreet Manor. But I believe the younger one starts, the more at ease one is in the saddle. No doubt you rode early yourself, Emily?”
“I did. Papa said that I insisted on his taking me up on horseback with him when I was only five. And Hugh! The legend at Fallings is that Hugh took to riding Papa’s Great Dane when he was only two. But then, Hugh is a complete hand and always has been.”
Baby Walter had begun to squirm in Nell’s arms and she was unable to sufficiently calm him to keep his little voice from rising. Emily glanced at the doorway into the other room and grimaced. “I’d best be getting along, then, before your aunt awakens. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Nell. I hope we shall become better acquainted in the days to come.”
“Bath seems quite a small town. No doubt we shall see you in the Pump Room one of these mornings.”
“Or at one of the assemblies,” Emily suggested.
Nell smiled but made no response as she helped Emily wrap the child in another layer of blankets.
“You do go to the assemblies, do you not?” Emily persisted.
“Not as yet. We’ve only been in town for a week, and Aunt Longstreet would find little pleasure in such entertainment.”
“Then you must come with me!”
“That’s very kind of you, Emily, but I don’t believe that would be possible.”
“Whyever not?” her visitor demanded, but as Walter was now in full voice, she was distracted enough to allow Nell to shepherd her toward the entry hall. “I shall come again, probably without the baby,” Emily announced as Woodbridge held the front door open for her.
The nursery maid stepped forward to take charge of the clamoring infant, and Emily was able to extend her hand to Nell. “Do come to call on me, in the Circus. And…and bring your aunt, of course. You will be most welcome.”
“Thank you.” Nell stood watching as her guest skipped down the step and onto the pavement, but sighed with relief when Woodbridge closed the door on the infant’s cries. “If only my aunt may still be asleep…”
“Helen! What’s that racket?” called Aunt Longstreet from the front parlor. “Surely you’ve gotten rid of that tiresome girl by now.”
Nell rolled her eyes skyward and went to calm her aunt.
Chapter Three
Sir Hugh was unaware that his sister had paid a call on the two Queen Square ladies when he arrived at their house. He had a good excuse for calling on them, as he juggled the unwieldy volumes of the Peerage in his arms, perfectly aware that the burden was disordering the set of his mulberry coat. No sacrifice, he assured himself ruefully, was too great to attempt to put himself into his godmother’s good graces once again.
He might have saved his efforts.
Miss Longstreet regarded him with astonishment when he arrived in her parlor bearing his gift. “What the devil have you got there?” she demanded.
Her companion rose swiftly to her feet and came forward to save one of the volumes from sliding out of his arms. Sir Hugh triumphantly set the others down on a table hastily cleared by the young woman. “The current Peerage, ma’am.”
“And what do you expect me to do with them, young man?”
“Why, you were quite determined yesterday in the lending library to borrow them and bring them home with you. I thought to make your task easier by bringing them straight away.”
“All of them? Why would I need all of them?”
Sir Hugh felt decidedly aggrieved. “Not knowing what your research involved, I could not very well choose a particular volume, ma’am. Perhaps you would like me to carry off those which do not interest you?”
Miss Longstreet’s countenance took on a crafty expression and she snapped, “That’s none of your business. But I won’t have them in here—nasty, dusty old books.”
“I assure you they are the current edition, and unlikely to be the least bit dusty.”
“No, no, of course they aren’t.” Miss Armstrong wished she could fan herself to subdue the color that she could feel suffusing her cheeks. Her aunt’s handsome godson had come back to see them after all! Just when she’d quite made up her mind she’d never see him again! She started toward the pile of books. “I’ll take these into the study, shall I, Aunt Longstreet?”
“You may put them in the kitchens for all I care,” that curmudgeonly lady retorted.
“Let me,” Sir Hugh insisted, as he once again gathered the volumes in his arms.
Nell led him down the hall to a room on the left, whose door she pushed open with a certain reluctance. “The thing is, you see, that we have taken the house furnished, and I should very much dislike having your volumes lost among those of the owner.”
She hastened into the room and swept a s
mall stack of leather-bound books from the large central table and onto a high stool which stood near it. “I will do my utmost to see that they are well cared for, Sir Hugh, and that they are returned to you in good time.”
“There’s not the least need for any speedy return of them. I believe I ordered them when my sister’s child was born, just curious as to one branch of his ancestry, don’t you know.”
“We met your sister and little Walter this morning.”
“Did you? Where?”
“Why, here. She came to call.”
“Did she, by God!” Sir Hugh flushed. “Begging your pardon, Miss Armstrong. I hope she was not impertinent.”
“Now why should you think that?” Nell closed the study door behind them. “Aunt Longstreet was a trifle overbearing, I fear, and your sister is not accustomed to her ways.”
Sir Hugh paused in the hallway, his gaze intent on the young woman’s face. “Emily can be—ah—curious to the point of incivility at times. I trust you will not allow her to browbeat you in any way.”
“Your sister is charming, Sir Hugh. And the baby is delightful. Did you know that she transports him about in a wagon? How very clever of her.” Feeling a bit breathless, Nell reached for the doorknob to the parlor door, but Sir Hugh stayed her hand. Her breathing stopped altogether.
“A moment. You alarm me by your evasiveness, Miss Armstrong. I suspect that my sister offended you, and I am very sorry for it.”
His insistent manner startled her from her preoccupation with his physical nearness. With her gaze fully on his, she said, “You needn’t be, for Mrs. Holmsly did not offend me in any way. Perhaps it is my own reserved manners which are confounding you, Sir Hugh. I am a solitary person by nature and not given to confidences. You must not read so much into my discretion.”
“Now I am even more concerned,” he insisted, his brows drawing down into a full-blown frown. “Trust me to have a word with my sister, ma’am. I assure you she means not the least harm.”
“Truly, I am well aware of that, Sir Hugh.” She reached again for the doorknob and this time grasped and turned it now quite unaffected by his being partially in her way. “There is no need for you to distress yourself, I assure you.”
A Rival Heir Page 3