A Dance of Manners
Page 16
“I will,” Princess Victoria promised.
The baroness entered the room again carrying an oval platter of apples, grapes and nuts. Kitty arranged the fruit into an attractive display on a table. As she surveyed her work, a streak of lightning lit the sky outside the window. Seconds later, another boom of thunder struck. A surge of nervousness overcame her, making it difficult to concentrate on her task.
“What a sudden and terrible storm,” Victoria pronounced. “My lady, I can tell by your face it storm is most worrisome to you.”
“Perhaps,” the baroness suggested, “when it lets up, our coachman can take you home straight away. In the event the rain continues later, at least you will be home safely.”
“If the weather clears, that might be best. Thank you,” Kitty answered. Sitting back, she pulled her skirt around her. It wasn't cold, but the warm fabric against her legs soothed her. “Shall we begin?”
Victoria began to sketch in her natural elegant manner, back straight, head up. Within several minutes the princess had the basic forms laid out on her sketch paper in light pencil. Kitty watched her and then began her own drawing.
* * * *
It was wretchedly wet outside. Kitty lifted her dress as she made her way toward the royal carriage outside Kensington Palace. Luckily, the rain had ceased and skies cleared once the princess's lesson was finished. A coachman stood beside the door to assist her up and held out a hand to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she allowed herself to lean into him. His hand was firm and warm.
“You are welcome, my lady.”
What a deep voice.
She almost looked back at him to see his face, but she had more pressing matters. Her slippers were wet and she mustn't get mud on her dress. Grateful the rain had abated, she adjusted her dress as she sat.
The carriage pitched forward, and the horses’ hooves sloshed through the mud and gravel. She examined her feet with dismay. Ah, her slippers were ruined. They were thoroughly soaked and coated in brown mud. She carefully kicked them off.
Finally ... a moment alone to think. Remembering the princess, she smiled to herself. In Kitty's eyes, Victoria was a perfect girl—thoughtful, attractive, unpretentious—and a naturally gifted artist. In the years to come, would Victoria become queen and remember her lessons? Would she recall these days with fondness? Perhaps she would pursue her art studies for many years to come. Certainly, she could be tutored by the very best the world had to offer ... and Kitty had no doubt she would.
Once she arrived home, Kitty's mother would ask her to describe the events of the day at the royal household. Kitty, her sisters, brother and parents would meet, going over the events of the day while they had something light to hold them over until their evening meal. Normally they took tea in the dining room, or the library of Red Woodlyn, the home of her father, the Duke of English.
This spring, the family was staying in their London townhouse, so the duke could be close to some of his obligations in town. Kitty's titled position of lady—daughter of the Duke of English—along with her parents’ connections, earned her consideration for the position of tutoring Princess Victoria. She had been selected to teach her future queen sketching and watercolors, an honor indeed.
Recalling the day's lesson, she smiled. Then she smiled more when her thoughts changed direction. The Devonshire Ball! Everyone looked forward to it, and Kitty was no exception. What gown should she wear?
A loud, unexpected noise broke her thoughts. Rain. The rain pounded so heavily Kitty couldn't see out. The carriage jerked to a stop. Water beat against the roof, and the carriage swayed. The wind howled. Thankfully, the windows weren't open.
Kitty braced herself. Where had this storm come from? Hadn't the weather cleared? Beads of wetness broke out at her temples as her heart thumped in her head. She prayed the turbulent weather would clear soon.
Wind came from another direction, jarring Kitty from her seat. She dug her fingers into the bench to keep from falling. “Hello?” she screamed. “Can you hear me?” She knocked on the glass. The coachman and the horses bore the brunt of the elements while she was safely inside the coach ... dry.
“Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”
There was more wind and more pounding rain, yet no answer. She had no choice but to remain calm and wait until the rain stopped. Suddenly, one of the horses cried out, and the carriage lurched forward. Oh, no! Would she be trapped in a runaway coach? Her heart hammered in her chest. The carriage could overturn and smash, or worse. She trembled.
Something had scared the horses. Panic would do her no good, and she forced herself to stay calm. She must be alert and be ready to jump out of the carriage if necessary. Senses heightened, muscles tensed, she strained to hear the sounds outside. The rain seemed to come down with renewed vigor. But the whine lessened and the wind quieted.
Someone banged at the carriage door.
“Yes, yes!” she cried. “I have been calling to you!”
The coachman pulled open the door halfway. His face glistened as he squinted inside to look at her. She couldn't help but notice his dark eyelashes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am. But the horses ... have they had too much of a fright?”
The man shivered with wet. “One of them is afraid, yes. I have been trying to settle him.”
“Come inside and take shelter,” she told him.
“No, I must see to the horse. If he panics again, I may have to release him.”
The door shut with a thud, and he was gone. Would he have to let the horse go? If so, what would become of them? Could the remaining horse pull them to safety?
The coachman's command of the situation calmed her anxieties to a degree. If need be, he'd release the horse, and Kitty could stay in the carriage. There hadn't been any sudden gusts of wind. Tentatively, she hoped the worst of the storm might be past. Perhaps so ... if the wind did not kick up again.
Waiting, she held onto the bench. The rain still hadn't let up. An image of the coachman shivering haunted her. She tried to forget it ... but that was all she could see. He was cold and wet. The thought of him suffering, with a constant flow of water beating upon him, upset her. Once the horse was calm, she would insist he take shelter with her. It was her duty to do so. Surely, if she did not, the consequences would be that he'd become severely indisposed.
Resolved, she opened the carriage door. Cold drops beat upon her. “Sir!” she called.
A light wind blew rain inside the opening of the door. “Oh!”
“My lady, please oblige me and get inside to safety,” the coachman said sternly. He raced to the carriage steps.
Water dripped into her eyes. “But sir ... please take shelter now.”
“I assure you that I am fine,” he said.
Retreating to the interior of the coach, she wiped the rain from her face and hair and sat. Now that she could see better, she looked up at him. “It is only right that you warm yourself. Is the horse calmed sufficiently?”
Stooping inside the door, he nodded. “I think so.”
“Pray, do sit.” Again she noticed his dark head of hair and the contrast of his dark eyelashes against the creaminess of his skin.
“For a moment, perhaps.” He ducked inside, closed the door, and sank down on the opposite bench with a sigh. His clothes dripped puddles onto the floor.
“You are a sight.” She smiled.
He grinned back at her. “I suppose I am.”
“I was afraid we would tip over ... such were the winds...”
“I was misguided to think I could make the journey. The fault is all mine.”
Kitty laughed. “There is no fault to be had, really.” Fully looking across at him—finally—she realized he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. To her surprise, she sucked in her breath. Luckily, he didn't notice. He was rubbing his large hands together.
“It seems as if the rain is quieting down a bit. As soon as possible, I should g
et you back to Kensington Palace.” That deep voice again. “I fear it would be unwise to continue any farther.”
She looked into his eyes. “Unwise?”
“Well, yes...” He flashed her a beautiful smile.
She felt a throbbing heartbeat again. He is utterly ... breathtaking. Taken aback at her unexpected reaction to him, she lowered her eyes.
“One of the horses panicked—as you heard—and I was fearful he'd take off in a run and frighten the other one. I couldn't see anything ... and then the winds came. From the skies I wouldn't have known.”
“Indeed,” she agreed.
“Only twenty minutes ago, the sky was calm and clear.”
“And bright.” Kitty smelled the scent of rain from his clothes. How unexpected this was, sitting inches away from this most perfect looking man. Her senses were so fully aware of his wet clothes and his masculinity.
“I feel sure it would be safer for you to spend the night at Kensington Palace than to proceed on the course we were on.”
Transfixed, she waited for him to continue speaking.
“Do you not agree?”
“What?”
With a lopsided grin, he spoke slowly. “I was saying it would be best to try to make it back to Kensington Palace and stay there.”
“Mrs. Coke, the cook ... well, she did say I could stay in a room if necessary.”
“And now you are wet, too,” he pointed out. “You will need to warm yourself by the fire.”
Staring at his lips while he spoke, she had to concentrate to answer. “The fire ... yes. And you, too, sir, you need to warm yourself by the fire much more than I do,” she managed. “You'll be positively ill by morning if you don't get out of those wet clothes.”
“I can assure you I will be fine.”
“Not if you ride back in the rain...”
“It is a mild day.”
“Oh, perhaps,” she began, “but I saw you shivering before.”
“It was only the wind,” he said. “It is dying down.”
“Nevertheless, please do not disappoint me. You must look after your health.” Why am I so concerned that he stay warm?
"I shall be relieved to get you back to the palace safely and...” He rubbed his hands together again, with a far-off look in his eyes. “I thank you for your offer of shelter. I am much recovered. And so I will temporarily bid you farewell."
She wanted to tell him to stay with her longer, but she dare not. It wouldn't be proper. Sighing, she noted her messy slippers in the corner.
* * * *
Kitty ate a warm plate of meat and potatoes at the kitchen table, alone. Afterward, with only one candle to illuminate their way, the housekeeper led her through the dark apartment. It was quiet in this part of the palace except for the soft rustling of their skirts. They stopped in front of a door, and the housekeeper jiggled the glass doorknob.
“It sticks sometimes,” she told Kitty, as she pushed the door open. “Come in, follow me, and I shall light the candles.”
Kitty stepped into the small, musty room. The housekeeper busied herself, and in a few moments the room glowed with light. There were two small beds with a table between them. The only other item in the room was a long shelf, filled with books and candlesticks.
“Make yourself comfortable in either bed. There's lots of candlelight and you can read if the mood strikes you.” She swept her hand in the direction of the shelf with books.
“Thank you.” Kitty looked from left to right and said the only thing that came to her mind. “Where are the windows?”
“There aren't any.”
“I wish there were, to be able to look outside, although it is getting dark.”
“It must be distressing for you to have to stay here so unexpectedly. You must be used to finer sleeping accommodations.”
Kitty smiled in earnest. “A bit grander, yes.”
“I must get back to my work so I can finish for the night. Can I get you anything else, my lady?”
Kitty's eyes brightened. She was used to being asked what she wanted. “If you could bring me a hot tea, I would be grateful.”
I'll be back,” she promised, heading for the door.
Once alone, Kitty thought of him. That man had saved her life today. Not only had he calmed the horse, he'd calmed her. Never in her life had she been so afraid while traveling. The coachman certainly was a fine one, handling everything expertly. When he had escorted her back to the servant's entrance, Kitty had been grateful to be safe but almost sorry their encounter had come to an end. She wasn't sure why.
Part of her wished the rain had continued longer so they could have stayed together. What foolishness! There was no point dwelling on this. His job was to take her to her destination safely. The royals had access to the finest horses, carriages and drivers, didn't they? Simply, it must have been his confident manner that impressed her.
Needing to forget the day's events, she approached the shelves to choose a book, to help push these thoughts from her mind. She'd think of her future instead. Thoughts of running her own home once she married, with her own servants to command, swirled through her mind. She had just turned nineteen and several marriage possibilities loomed in her future.
She chose several books and carried them to the corner bed.
The match which suited her best—if she had to choose right now—would be the son of the Earl of Breyton since his family seat was close to her father's. She had been to Nebry Castle many times. The earl was quite elderly now. He had married and had children late in life. His eldest son, Edward, was pleasing to look at, and had always been thoughtful and kind to her. Kitty had much to look forward to.
That was where she belonged—in a marriage and home befitting of her rank—not here in this musky little cupboard of a room. As much as she loved and respected the royal family, she wasn't a servant. Even though a privilege to tutor the dear young princess, she still had difficulty accepting that when she was in this house, she was well below their rank. However, for the sake of her parents and appearances, she would adapt. One did not refuse a royal request.
She flipped absently through the books but struggled to see the words. Did people actually read in a room with only two candles between the beds for light? She could get up, light more candles, and bring them to the table. Fretting about the storm and the excitement of the day had drained her body.
The housekeeper must have had other things to do and forgotten Kitty's hot tea. As tired as she was, it was just as well.
Kitty removed her cream colored dress and laid it across the other bed. She pulled back the blankets and slipped into the soft bedding. Soothed and relaxed, she had only one thought: Had he taken off his wet clothes and warmed himself?
Moments later, her eyes closed and she fell asleep.
* * * *
The rhythm of the carriage rocking back and forth on the way back to the townhouse was a bit uncomfortable, but at least Kitty was on her way home. Although she'd slept well last night, tonight she would be in her own bed. In the light of the morning, one could see the storm had thrown pieces of debris along the streets.
She peered at the bright sky. There didn't seem to be a cloud in sight, quite a difference from yesterday. Although returning home should have calmed her, she fidgeted and busied her hands smoothing the soft fabric of her skirt, which did nothing to quiet her nerves. He was taking her home. A footman had helped her into the carriage, but moments later she had seen him approach ... and not depart.
Perhaps a warm bath would soothe her unsettled nerves. As they neared the townhouse, she patted her hair. It was all she could do as far as her toilette was concerned, having no rose water or even a comb. She had departed Kensington Palace the moment the royal carriage arrived to take her back—even before breakfasting.
As the carriage pulled up to the townhouse and the horses stopped, Kitty smiled brightly. Home! Looking out the window, she saw the tall familiar brick building with its massive front door.
He grinned at her now with a bright, beckoning smile, little dimples showing on each side of his face. Surely, he couldn't read her thoughts!
She pulled her hand away, and without thinking, said the first thing that came into her mind. “Why are you laughing at me?”
The coachman cocked his head and looked at her quizzically. Slowly, he extended his hand once again to assist her. “My lady, I am saddened to have offended you in any way. Believe me, that was not my intention.”
She took his hand to steady herself as she got out of the carriage. “Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to say that.”
He helped her down. “Let me escort you safely to your door.”
Perched on the last step, Kitty picked up the edges of her dress and gazed at the mud. “Oh!” Mud extended from the side of the carriage all the way to the townhouse step. She couldn't possibly attempt to cross it. Might the coachman have some type of board he could lay across all the mud?
“If you will allow me, I will bring you safely to your door.”
Wondering what he had in mind, she agreed. Although her shoes were ruined, she needed to protect her dress. “Thank you. This is most unexpected.”
He scooped her easily into his arms. Gasping, she looked at him as he maneuvered carefully through the mud and puddles. He held her close to his body, and she smelled his scent, musky and pleasing. She forced herself to relax in his arms as he waded through the mire. Then he deposited her safely near the front door.
As her feet hit the ground, she remembered she was the daughter of the Duke of English. A well bred lady wasn't scooped up in someone's arms like a rag doll. “Sir, while I appreciate your assistance, I do think you have gone too far.”
He ignored her.
She glared at him for a moment and then took in a breath. He was so handsome! Her heart pounded hard, though why, she could not say. A new emotion filled her, possibly a blend of excitement, embarrassment and pure joy.