by Lucy Muir
“Your lordship, Miss Trevor,” he said with a bow. “May I congratulate you on a most edifying execution of the minuet.”
Lord Edgecombe and Catherine acknowledged their gratitude of the praise and the marquess returned Catherine to Lady Manning, and, taking a chair next to Catherine’s, they watched several of the following minuets. Lord Edgecombe watched each performance critically, commenting on the good and bad points of the couple’s performance. After the fifth minuet he pulled a jeweled snuffbox from his coat pocket, flicked it open with his thumb, and took a pinch.
“I believe there is little more to be gained from watching the remaining minuets, so I propose a change of diversion. I have not forgotten you promised to match your skill with me in vingt-un, Miss Trevor,” he challenged as he returned the snuffbox to his pocket. “Perhaps we might repair to the card room?”
“I did indeed promise to do so, Lord Edgecombe,” Catherine acknowledged. “Lady Manning?” Catherine asked as she rose from her seat.
“I do not believe I shall play tonight,” Lady Manning refused. “I shall remain here with Mrs. Turner, but you may accompany Lord Edgecombe to the card room if you wish.”
Several tables in the card room were devoted to whist, and several others to round games such as loo and speculation, but Catherine and the marquess did find one table devoted to vingt-un. With the other three players’ permission, Catherine and Lord Edgecombe joined the game.
Within minutes of being seated at the table, Catherine knew that she would have to be very lucky indeed to succeed as well at vingt-un as she had at the minuet. Playing one-on-one with Lord Woodforde had been nothing like playing with five at the table. Her store of coins was vanishing rapidly with the necessity of paying out to however many of the four players’ totals exceeded her count instead of paying to only one when she lost, and she wondered how long she would be able to stay in the game. It was not that she could not stand the loss, but she did not wish to appear a novice card player to Lord Edgecombe. Then, just as she feared to lose her last guinea, Catherine was dealt a natural twenty-one and the deal passed to her.
The gentlemen placed their wagers and Catherine dealt the cards smoothly, no tremor revealing her nervousness. Her own hand totaled twenty and she felt secure. Two of the other players went over twenty-one, Lord Ellsworth stayed at nineteen, and Lord Edgecombe added a three to his thirteen. Relieved, Catherine waited for the four players to pay her, made a larger wager for the next hand, and dealt again. This time her cards totaled nineteen, and she had to pay only one of the other players, while the remaining three were required to pay her. Her third deal she dealt herself another natural twenty-one. Her confidence growing, Catherine made an even larger wager, but her heart sank as she saw she had given herself a ten and a two, one of the worst possible hands for the dealer. Lord Edgecombe smiled slightly and stayed with his hand. The other players all stayed in the deal with hits that kept them below twenty-one, and Catherine’s heart sank lower. Then it was her turn to play her hand. She took a card. A three. Another. A two. Should she stop at 17? Greatly daring, she took another card. A four!
“Lud! Miss Trevor,” Lord Ellsworth said, “demme if you an’t the luckiest dealer I have seen.”
Two deals later Lord Edgecombe announced a natural twenty-one and the deal passed to the marquess. Catherine’s luck immediately began to reverse and she lowered her wagers, although it did not help, for the others raised theirs and she still had to pay all the hands that her hand did not exceed in count. Once again her money sank dangerously low and once again she recouped everything when she won the deal back. After she lost the deal a second time to Lord Ellsworth, she waited until she had lost half of her coins and then excused herself from further play. The gentlemen stood as she rose from the table, and Lord Edgecombe offered to accompany her back to the ballroom.
“Thank you, Lord Edgecombe, but I would prefer not to interrupt your play,” Catherine replied. “Thank you, gentlemen, for a most challenging game.”
“It was our pleasure, Miss Trevor,” Edgecombe replied with a keen look.
Catherine felt Lord Edgecombe’s eyes on her as she exited the room, and she returned to Lady Manning in an exaltation of spirits. Sarah was no longer dancing and had taken the chair to Lady Manning’s right. Lord Woodforde occupied the seat on Lady Manning’s other side, leaving Catherine an empty chair to Lord Woodforde’s left.
“Well Miss Trevor,” Woodforde said as she settled onto the chair, “do you still own a carriage to convey you home, or do you desire the lend of mine?”
“I have left the card room with as much as when I entered it,” Catherine replied with some pride. “Although,” she added honestly, “there were several moments I was not certain I would do so. You failed to warn me how quickly coins disappear when one must pay out multiple hands.”
“I assumed your common sense would tell you that,” Woodforde replied. “What do you wish me to instruct you in next?” he continued. “Whist? I believe that is Lord Edgecombe’s preferred game.”
“No, thank you, Lord Woodforde. I do not believe I require your tutelage any longer.”
“Do you not?” Lord Woodforde asked with an odd light in his eye.
“No, for I believe I have now been successful in engaging Lord Edgecombe’s interest.”
“Indeed, Miss Trevor! Then perhaps I might offer myself as tutor in other areas, such as the correct form of accepting a gentleman’s offer. Certainly you have enough experience in refusing offers, but I think you could bear lessons in their acceptance.”
“I am quite sure Lord Edgecombe is capable of tutoring me himself, in whatever skills he might wish me to have,” Catherine replied acerbically, weary of being baited.
“Of that I have no doubt,” Woodforde replied. “I should beware, Miss Trevor.”
As Lord Woodforde’s meaning penetrated, Catherine’s cheeks flushed. “That is plain speaking, my lord,” she said stiffly.
“I have always spoken plainly to you and see no reason to change. I fear you know but little of the man you pursue.”
“If you know aught to his detriment, please speak.”
“I know as little as you of the man, but far more of his kind,” Woodforde answered gravely.
“I think you overstep the bounds of our friendship, Lord Woodforde,” Catherine said indignantly, her anger rising.
“I think not, Miss Trevor,” Lord Woodforde answered firmly. “You, by your own request, have invited me to become involved in your pursuit of Lord Edgecombe. I consider that gives me both the right and the responsibility to warn you as well as assist you in your aims. I should be remiss in my duty to my friendship to Lord Trevor, Lady Manning, and yourself should I fail to do so.”
“You may consider your duty done,” Catherine replied, unable to argue the truth that she had invited his participation in her plans to attach the interest of Lord Edgecombe. Tiring of speaking to her friend any longer while he was in such an odd humour, and seeing an empty chair at Sarah’s right, she abandoned Lord Woodforde and attached herself to Mrs. Turner for the remainder of the evening.
Chapter Seven
“What day is it Mr. Cowper is to arrive?” Lord Trevor asked his daughter during dinner the day following the assembly room ball. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes, Papa,” Catherine replied. “He is to arrive sometime during the morning.”
“Have you ordered the room aired and gone over the menu with Cook?” her father asked. “I would not wish Mr. Cowper to find our table deficient.”
“Yes Papa,” Catherine assured her father again. Lord Trevor insisted upon all the amenities being offered to guests at Rosemont, and he had been particular in inquiring after her preparations for Mr. Cowper, for he greatly admired the gentleman’s essays on agricultural topics.
“It is most unfortunate your brother will not be arriving until after Mr. Cowper has left,” Lord Trevor observed as he cut a piece of roast duck. “No doubt Mr. Cowper would have enjoyed speaking
with John, and would also have enjoyed the presence of the young children.”
Catherine and Lady Manning exchanged glances across the table. For her part, Catherine was profoundly grateful her brother and his family would not be arriving until after Mr. Cowper had left, but Lord Trevor had always been blind to the true nature of his grandchildren. Catherine was only sorry that her brother would be arriving in time for the masquerade ball at Ellsworth Hall . No doubt Mrs. Trevor would insist on attending despite the many ills she complained she suffered from, and Catherine foresaw difficulties both before and during the masquerade.
“I am certain we shall be able to provide sufficient entertainment for Mr. Cowper ourselves,” Lady Manning assured her brother, “and I trust Lord Woodforde will be adding his presence to our dinners while our guest is here.”
“One may depend upon Woodforde,” Lord Trevor acknowledged.
While her aunt continued to discuss the impending guests and the preparations that had been made for them, Catherine slipped out to spend some time with William. Taking some of the conservatory fruit with which Lord Woodforde kept her supplied, she entered the walled garden and knelt down.
“Here William,” Catherine called, holding her hand out on the ground, palm up, a peach temptingly displayed. Accustomed to her visits, the hare soon hopped over and took the treat from her hand. He remained next to her, chewing the fruit with apparent enjoyment while his eyes watched Catherine. When he finished his treat William sat up on his haunches, his forelegs crossed before his soft beige underbelly, and looked at her as though to say “Are there no more? Surely I am begging prettily enough for more.” Catherine placed her remaining strawberry in her lap, but William would not climb into her lap to take it, although he did stretch out his neck and sniff her gown where it folded over her knees.
“Someday I shall coax you onto my lap,” Catherine murmured. “Someday. You will see.” The hare’s ears twitched, but, seeing no more treats were to be forthcoming—at least not where he was willing to go to procure them—he hopped back into the garden where he availed himself of the abundant lettuces and flower blossoms.
“Mr. Cowper, welcome to Rosemont. We are most pleased to have your company,” Lord Trevor said graciously to his guest. “Lady Manning, here is Mr. Cowper arrived. Mr. Cowper, my sister, Lady Manning, and my daughter, Miss Trevor.”
Mr. Cowper thanked his host for the welcome and turned to the women. Lady Manning held out her hand and he kissed it with great éclat, thanking his hostess for her hospitality, and then spoke to Catherine.
“Miss Trevor, I was most honoured by your invitation to speak to your Blue Stocking Society,” he said with genial charm. “I have been asked to speak to the society before, but never to speak about my hares. I am most flattered and pleased to have my hares the topic of interest.”
Catherine held out her hand as well and he kissed it with a practiced grace. Catherine had created in her mind an expectation of a gentle, slight gentleman, short of stature, and was surprised to find that Mr. Cowper was of medium height and sturdy build, strong featured, and ruddy complexioned. Grey-blue eyes twinkled at her with great good humour.
“I am pleased you consented to speak to us, Mr. Cowper,” Catherine said warmly. “I have been looking forward to it this age.”
“Do you still have the hare you wrote of?” Mr. Cowper asked.
“Yes, I do. Do you wish to see him?” Catherine asked eagerly. “I would like your opinion as to his health and his behaviour.”
“Daughter, you must allow Mr. Cowper time to recover from his journey,” Lord Trevor reproved Catherine. “No doubt he is wishing to remove his travel stains and rest. There will be time enough later for him to see your hare.”
“Perhaps I might take a moment to meet him now, and speak to you about him in more depth at another time,” Mr. Cowper offered.
Pleased with his interest, Catherine led Mr. Cowper to the walled garden, describing her efforts to heal and tame the hare on the way. She opened the door to the garden and they entered quietly. Mr. Cowper immediately knelt on the ground, and Catherine knelt beside him.
“They are creatures of the ground, and fear us less when we are on their level,” Mr. Cowper whispered. “Let us sit quietly a moment and see what happens and whether he will trust this stranger who comes into his garden.”
In a minute or so the hare, who had hidden when the door to the garden opened, peeked out from behind a cabbage plant and hopped slowly towards them, nose wriggling, ears forward. He sniffed at Catherine and then turned his attention to Mr. Cowper, his nose wriggling faster and faster. Apparently satisfied this new person was no threat, he hopped over to the vegetable plot and began to eat.
“He is a fine hare,” Mr. Cowper commented, “and appears to have healed well of his wounds. Has he a name?”
“His name is William,” Catherine said in some embarrassment.
Mr. Cowper chuckled softly. “You need not blush, my dear, I am honoured to have such a namesake.”
He stood up slowly and Catherine did the same.
“I have been endeavouring to persuade him to come to me and sit in my lap as you wrote Puss did yours, but all he will do thus far is to come and take a treat from my hand,” Catherine informed Mr. Cowper. “How long do you think it will take for him to truly accept me?”
“How long has he now been in your home, Miss Trevor?” Mr. Cowper asked.
“Nearly three months.”
“And he was recovering from grievous wounds for part of that time. It is much too soon to expect to have his total trust quite yet, Miss Trevor. It will take some time to gain the trust of a hunted creature such as William here. Continue as you are and in another few months he may learn not to fear your touch. I feel certain he will respond to your kindness in time. Hares are most grateful creatures, and are appreciative of the least attentions we give them.”
“Yes, I felt William knew I was endeavouring to help him,” Catherine agreed. “I am happy he is feeling as well as he is now, and I begin to see more of his character and ways.”
“You will find hares have a wonderful ability to notice the least alteration in their place of habitation. One day,” Mr. Cowper said with a chuckle, “I had let my three into the parlour for their evening gambols and was puzzled to see that instead of running and leaping as they usually did, they gathered around a spot in the carpet giving it their minutest attention. Curious, I looked to see what absorbed their interest and found that they were examining a spot that had been mended that day. Their powers of observation are great indeed.
“May I ask if you plan to keep him here in the garden?” he added.
“Yes, for as long as the weather remains fine. Then I plan to bring him into the house. Our neighbor, Lord Woodforde, whom you will meet at supper, is building me a home for him such as you described in your essay.”
“That sounds to be a most excellent plan, and if your neighbor constructs the home as I described it will be simple for it to be kept clean. Hares are naturally fastidious creatures. But if I may give you a word of caution, Miss Trevor. Hares do not do well if they become wet and chilled. My dear Bess died when returned to her home after her box had been cleaned with water but was not yet dry. So if you ever choose to wash the house make certain it is well dried out before allowing him to return to it.” He sighed. “It is unfortunate we must sometimes learn from tragic occurrences.”
“Thank you for your caution,” Catherine responded. “I hope to benefit much more of your knowledge while you are here. But now I had best do as my father requests and allow you to rest from your journey.”
At Lord Trevor’s request, Woodforde came to take supper at Rosemont the evening of Mr. Cowper’s arrival. Catherine had not seen her neighbor since the night of the assembly, but, as always had been their habit, neither carried their disagreement to their next meeting, and they met as friends.
“Lord Woodforde, may I present out guest, Mr. Cowper? Mr. Cowper, Lord Woodforde is our neigh
bor, and it is he who is to build William his house,” Catherine introduced the gentlemen.
An immediate affinity between the guests was evident, and they and Lord Trevor began an animated discussion on agricultural topics which continued through the dinner.
“I do believe it is the Englishman’s devotion to the land that had preserved this nation,” Lord Trevor commented at the end of a discussion on various innovations landowners had made to their agricultural methods, “and keeps us from troubles such as are rumbling in France.”
“I have no doubt you are in the right of it,” Lord Woodforde agreed. “Our English nobleman may absent himself from his lands for the pleasures of the city during the winter and spring, but summer will see him once again at his estate, taking a most personal interest in his tenants, farm, and village. Not that he finds no dissipations in the country,” he added, “for English gentlemen are also known for his devotion to hunting, feasting, drinking, and whoring.” Lord Woodforde glanced at Lady Manning and Catherine. “Begging your pardons.”
“It is true the English gentleman has remained more devoted to his land than his counterparts in many other countries,” Mr. Cowper commented mildly. “Yet I must deplore the increase in hedonistic pastimes that can make him careless of his duty to his land and tenants. I would think the true lover of the land must be the one who walks silently through it, appreciating the stillness and the scenes a Painter greater than any human one has wrought. The English gentleman might do yet better than he does, did he value virtue and steadiness more.”
The cups of tea and coffee served at the end of the meal now sitting empty, Lady Manning excused herself and Catherine that the gentlemen might enjoy their port in privacy until such time as they should choose to rejoin the ladies in the drawing room.