Miss Delacourt Has Her Day

by Heidi Ashworth

  “No, I have not, and I lay the fault entirely in your dish!” Lady Crenshaw retorted. “I haven’t had a morsel or slept a wink since I had news from certain persons about the scandal you put into motion last night.”

  Ginny swallowed a hot retort of her own, but her empty stomach was having none of it. “I am sorry to hear you have been so ill. Perhaps the fault would be better assigned to those persons who so thoughtlessly carried this exaggerated news to you,” she suggested as she rang the bell for refreshments to be served.

  Lady Crenshaw sat back and raised her eyebrows in scorn. “I had the news of Lady Derby herself, last night at the Seftons’ rout. I have no reason to believe she spoke an untrue word. Her description of you making eyes at my son, dancing all night with him, and causing a literal scandal on the dance floor is exactly the kind of behavior I would have expected of one such as you!”

  Ginny was too angry to formulate a reply to any but one of the charges. “We had but one dance. We were only under Mrs. Hadley’s roof together for a matter of minutes. Surely not even Lady Derby could construe that to mean we were together all night. I-“

  “Tut-tut!” Lady Crenshaw interrupted. “Why, you make it sound as if Lady Derby is stirring up trouble merely to make things difficult!”

  Ginny knew the case to be exactly that but feared any reply she made would only further ruin any chance she had at pleasing Lady Crenshaw. She was momentarily saved by the arrival of the tea tray and a cart bearing breakfast food. Sadly, Ginny had lost her appetite and could only watch as Lady Crenshaw loaded her plate with buttered toast, bacon, scones, and clotted cream.

  “You realize what this means,” Lady Derby said, frowning around a mouthful of food.

  “I’m sorry, I do not. Is the cream soured?” Ginny asked. “I will ring for Garner to take it away at once”

  “It is not the cream that is in danger of souring, Miss Delacourt,” Lady Crenshaw said with a meaningful stare.

  Ginny quickly scanned the food cart for other perishables. “Oh, dear. Do you mean to say the butter has gone bad?”

  “I can see that I shall have to say this straight out,” Lady Crenshaw said with a heavy sigh. “My son is to be the next Duke of Marcross. Whatever you think of such, please know that Lord Crenshaw holds his future title in high regard and fully understands the responsibility he has for the family name and honor. When he formed his… attachment for you,” Lady Crenshaw said with a shudder, “you must own that it was before he knew what his future held in store”

  “I am sure neither of us dreamed this would be our lot, Lady Crenshaw, but I can assure you that I will do my best to honor my title as the future duchess”

  Lady Crenshaw emitted a rueful little laugh and put aside her plate. “You? Duchess? Miss Delacourt, do you not perceive the importance of his making a brilliant marriage?”

  Ginny formulated her reply with care. “Yes, I do, but I am persuaded you discount the importance your son places on true affection for his chosen wife.”

  “Poof! Love,” Lady Crenshaw said with a wave of her hand. “If only you knew how little that means once the passion subsides. The look he has in his eyes when he speaks of you is no different than the sparkle he bore when he was courting Lady Derby!”

  Ginny, her stomach roiling with apprehension, cast about for the proper duchesslike response to such hurtful words but found there was none.

  “He can fall in love with a girl who is a suitable match as well as one who is, well… not,” Lady Crenshaw continued with a sickly sweet smile, then leaned toward Ginny over her cup and saucer as if to keep her words from the wrong ears. “If you truly love Anthony, you will release my son in order to save him the scandal of breaking the engagement himself. Surely you can understand that,” she said with a sweeping glance of Ginny’s person, “even if you are no better than a guttersnipe.”

  Ginny opened her mouth to reply but was shocked when the voice of her Grandaunt rang loud and clear. “That will be enough out of you, Deborah! Ginerva is the granddaughter of my own brother, and he was a Wembley!”

  Lady Crenshaw rose to her feet in a huff. “And I suppose the Wembley name is better than ours”

  “It is good enough. However, if bearing a noble name gives you free rein to behave like a rag-mannered fool, my Ginny shall be glad to be free of it!”

  “Well, I never! I suppose I should thank you for that! In point of fact, I shall waste no time in getting word to Anthony that the engagement is at point non plus!” Lady Crenshaw cried as she hastened from the room.

  Grandaunt waited until the sound of her daughter-in-law’s ranting went down the stairs and out the front door before she turned to Ginny, her expression inscrutable. “I believe I warned you to let me handle Lady Crenshaw. Now, go and change your clothes. You look a fright. I expect my grandson will be calling at any moment, and we wouldn’t want him to have reason to think you a guttersnipe, as well.” Then she, too, quit the room.

  Ginny longed to throw something, anything, but it was the one habit of hers Anthony had expressly forbidden. In every other way, for every other virtue and vice, he loved her just as she was. She would not have him enter the room to witness her failure to change the one thing about herself he objected to when there was so much about her that was objectionable.

  However, she did not change her gown or her shoes or tidy her hair. She went down to the kitchen and out the door to the small walled garden and took up a bench in the morning sun to wait, knowing he would eventually find her. Wherever she was, wherever she might go, he would never fail to find her.

  Why the devil could he not find her? He had searched the breakfast room, the morning room, the parlor, and even Grandmama’s study. He was about to start opening bedchamber doors willy-nilly, but was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a green ribbon on the hall table. It was his favorite color for Ginny to wear, much greener than her eyes but just the thing to coax the emerald sparkle out of her mostly gray orbs. Pocketing the ribbon, he resolved to buy her yards and yards of the stuff-if only he could find her!

  He headed up the stairs to the third floor and opened the first door he came to. The room that lay beyond was furnished in dark wood, and blue velvet hangings adorned the bed. He realized with a start that it was the room he had been given for his use on those few occasions he had stayed with Grandmama since she had taken up residence at Wembley House after his grandfather’s death. Only once had he stayed overnight when Ginny had also been in London, yet he had no solid memory of her at that time. It seemed strange that she had slept in a room just down the hall, had sat at breakfast across the table from him, and he, all the while, was without the slightest inkling of how deeply in love with her he would one day be.

  True, at the time, he and Ginny had moved in very different circles. She, preferring books and flowers to the company of Society, had all but given up moving around in her delegated circle, while he had simply moved around and around in his, getting nowhere at all whatsoever.

  He drifted to the window. There must have been times when she was hiding out in the garden, wishing him at Jericho, while he was in the house busy with his own activities, too intent on nursing the paltry wound Lady Derby’s betrayal had done to his pride to notice how Ginny had blossomed into a beautiful, intelligent woman. It had happened right before his very eyes, but he never saw it until one fateful day a fortnight-and a lifetime-ago.

  Suddenly he saw her sunning herself on a bench in the garden, her feet curled up in the hem of her gown. Her hair, he noticed, was lacking adornment of any kind and hung down about her shoulders in scandalous disarray. She was gazing off into the distance, an air of patient waiting stamped upon her features. She looked for all the world like something out of a fairy tale, one in which the prince has been long delayed with the slaying of dragons while the beautiful and virtuous milkmaid remains steadfast and faithful that he will save the day and return to her side.

  If only he hadn’t been so caught up in the ways of Society, h
e might have come to her much sooner.

  She looked up then and saw him. The smile that lit her face made his breath catch in his throat. He was torn between standing there to drink in that smile forever and climbing out the window to take her instantly into his arms.

  “We are on the third floor, you buffle-headed fool!”

  Anthony whirled to face the door. “Grandmama! How did…”

  “You talk to yourself. Out loud. I daresay your valet has mentioned it to you once or twice. He finds it disconcerting in the extreme, but it has its advantages,” she said with a nod at the window. “Now, go and tell her what you have come to say, but use the stairs! I won’t have you breaking your head open on my property. I would much prefer you make that your mother’s problem, should push come to shove”

  Anthony felt an icy finger make its way down the length of his spine. “My mother? Has she been here already?”

  “At the crack of dawn, riding her broomstick.”

  Anthony groaned. “That is all that is needed! How did Ginny fare? Is she terribly upset?”

  “She didn’t throw anything, if that is what you are wondering” She sighed and sank onto the bed, looking suddenly every day of her age. “Anthony, matters are much worse than the trouble stirred up by Lady Derby, and I fear it is all my fault.”

  Anthony was alarmed by his grandmother’s tone. He had never seen her like this, tired and vulnerable, old, even. He sat next to her and put an arm about her shoulders. “Whatever it is that has happened, dearest, we shall all come about”

  “Oh, my boy, my precious boy, I fear not!” she cried, her lips trembling.

  “Grandmama, you are crying!”

  “Impossible!” she said, pushing him away. “Now, just… you must go to her, Anthony. Comfort her as an old lady cannot”

  He hesitated to leave Grandmama in such a state, but the way he was being swatted and pushed toward the door left him in little doubt of her wishes. As he dreaded outlining to her the details of his conversation with his uncle, the duke, only an hour previous, he was more than a bit relieved to get away and decided he would write to her the odious news in a note to be delivered via the post as soon as the moment presented itself. No doubt his uncle would do so, as well.

  He went downstairs and out toward the tiny garden with an ever-increasing feeling of dread. First his uncle the duke had turned on him, then his mother, and now Grandmama. What sort of family had he invited Ginny to join? If she were wise, she would run screaming into the wilderness before becoming a Crenshaw. Instead, she was waiting where he had last seen her, glowing in a patch of sunshine.

  “I was beginning to think I was wrong, that you would never find me,” she said with a misty smile.

  Dropping to the bench beside her, he gathered her into his arms. “My poor girl! Has it been as bad as all that?”

  Ginny gave a watery chuckle and leaned back out of his embrace. “Your grandmama is no doubt watching,” she warned, looking up at the window where he had so recently stood. “She is already worked up over something, and I would hate to give her reason to have you thrown bodily from the house”

  “That kind old woman?” Anthony quipped. If Ginny’s news proved to be anywhere near as bad as his, this could be his last chance at levity. “Why, she’s naught but an old softy! Had her reduced to tears, I did!”

  “Grandaunt, weeping?” Ginny exclaimed with unaccountable pleasure. “Whatever did you say to her?”

  “Merely that I could not wait to take you home to Dunsmere and make you my bride,” he replied, carrying her hand to his lips. He waited, breathless, for the blush that would surely follow and nearly crowed in delight when she obliged him.

  “Anthony,” Ginny scolded, “surely you didn’t! And even if you had, she would more likely have rapped you over the head than weep”

  He laughed. “You are right, of course, as always. Actually, I thought perhaps you would know far better than I what has reduced her to tears,” he prompted, folding her hand into his own and giving it a squeeze.

  “I’m afraid it was your mother,” Ginny said with a sigh. “She was just here, and there was a bit of a row.”

  “Between m’ mother and Grandmama?” Anthony asked, surprised. “How I wish I had been present to witness that!”

  “No, you most assuredly do not! It was quite horrid. Lady Crenshaw called me a guttersnipe, and Grandaunt took great exception to that”

  Anthony was astounded. “Surely you jest!”

  “Why would I jest about such a thing?” Ginny snapped. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she stood and turned her back to him. “Your mother believes our engagement is at an end, and Grandaunt is persuaded it was she who made it so”

  Anthony shot to his feet. “Grandmama did what?” The words that came next to his tongue were more eloquent, but as he didn’t wish to blister the ears of his beloved, he bit his lip.

  “I’m afraid she might be correct,” Ginny said through what sounded like tears. “Grandaunt felt truly insulted and was quite adamant that, as a result of Lady Crenshaw’s rudeness, I should not wish to take the name of Crenshaw.”

  “I don’t understand!” He wanted to take her and turn her into his arms, but the rigidity of her stance said, “Touch me not” “That is, you didn’t agree to that, did you? You do still wish to marry me?”

  Turning to face him, she cried, “Of course! You know I do! It’s only that everyone and everything seems against us, and I have to wonder if perhaps there is a reason. Perhaps they are all right. What if Lady Derby should do her worst? Perhaps people will cut me dead in the street and refuse all our invitations. What if our sons won’t be allowed to attend Oxford or Harrow, and our daughters remain unwed, all because you married the vicar’s daughter, no better than a guttersnipe!” Then she burst into gusty tears.

  Anthony thought perhaps even Grandmama could not object when he pulled Ginny against his shoulder and wrapped her up in his arms. If Grandmama dared to try, she could very well go to the devil. What’s more, she ought to go for making Ginny cry. His mother could go along, sooner rather than later. It would be a pity if she missed the wedding, but if it meant Ginny would be more comfortable, so be it. While he was at it, his uncle, the duke, should be added to the list of those consigned to hellfire. As things were, he hadn’t the heart to tell Ginny what the duke had said in the course of their most recent conversation earlier that morning. Better for Anthony to share it all with her at a later date, though never was sounding better with each sob.

  “Anthony?” Ginny asked when she was all cried out. “I do not think it is true that a duchess never weeps”

  He laughed in spite of the knot of woe that bound up his chest. “Of course they do, my darling, and you shall make a splendid one someday,” he soothed, drawing the green ribbon from the pocket of his coat and tying it into her hair. “There, now, you see? You are the very picture of a proper duchess!”

  Ginny laughed. No doubt she was thinking her still-bare feet and shapeless dress were sadly at odds with his words, yet he most heartily meant every one.

  Mother, I would have a word with you!” Anthony bellowed through Lady Crenshaw’s chamber door. He preferred that she had come down to the parlor when he first requested her presence, but her abigail had inferred that Lady Crenshaw was not at home, upon which he had charged up the stairs to rap on her door. She failed to open it, but he felt sure he heard a whimper of dismay on the other side. “I know you are in there. If you do not open this door, I shall set fire to it!”

  The door swung open as if it had been lent wings. “Anthony, how dare you? I am your mother!”

  “And I am the next Duke of Marcross, or have you forgotten?” he barked, hating to invoke his title but allowing anger to win out over integrity.

  “Of course not!” she said, all the while avoiding his gaze. “It’s only that I am persuaded you were once possessed of some manners. I do not know what that girl has done to you, Tony, but I do not like it.”

  “I
do not see as how I should be a slave to manners when you, Mother, are not” It was Ginny who had helped him learn that manners were for mankind, not the other way around. “Now, do we stay in the hall, or shall we retire to somewhere more private?” Without waiting for her reply, he took her firmly by the elbow, steered her into the sitting area of her chamber, and closed the door with a loud snick.

  He was dismayed when she wrested free of him and disposed herself on a small sofa, arranging her skirts around her in the artifice he despised.

  “Mother, tell me it wasn’t you who taught Ginny to do that,” he begged. “You will be the ruin of her. Perhaps I should cry off.”

  “But of course you should, Anthony! Have I not been saying so all week? As if I could ruin her. Why, there is nothing left to ruin!” she exclaimed, spreading her hands wide. “Your grandmother has seen to that. She could have been passable, even unexceptionable if handled right. As it is, she will ruin you if she has not done so already. You are too good for her.”

  “It is she who is too good for me, madam!” In fact, Ginny had saved him. It had taken only five minutes in her company for him to realize how utterly bored he had been, how futile his existence. The days he had spent quarantined with her at the Barringtons’ had been the most fruitful of his life, and he had willingly given up all he had held dear in order to ensure she would continue to be his guide throughout his life. None of it would have happened without Grandmama.

  “That’s another thing. I understand you insulted my grandmother in her own home!”

  Lady Crenshaw dabbed at her eyes with a scrap of fabric fringed with a quantity of lace. “As she insulted me!”

  “Yes, but she did not have her broom, er, carriage called out for the express purpose”

  “Anthony, you know I did not! I went to Wembley House to speak to your Miss Delacourt, a young woman clearly possessed of great intelligence. I felt if she knew how all of Society is up in arms about this mesalliance of yours, she would see the wisdom in bowing out of your life.”