A Dance of Manners
Page 18
The faint sound of horses’ hooves grew louder. The green and crimson coach, used only by the royal family, approached.
Soon, he had helped her into the carriage and she was settled comfortably. Was this the same coach she had ridden in the other morning? She wasn't sure. It was comfortable and plush and dark inside—safe. Soon she would be home. Enjoying the colored wildflowers on the edge of the road was all she had to do as she stretched out leisurely. A little later, the carriage stopped.
She sat up, alert. Besides the two of them on this road, they were totally alone. The coach moved a little and she surmised he was getting off. What was he doing? Was something wrong with one of the horses?
“Just a minute,” he called out to her.
She peeked out the window, but couldn't see him. He didn't appear to be near the horses, nor could she hear him. She juxtaposed herself in the seat and peered out the other way. The coachman was nowhere to be found.
Nervous, she sat straighter, fully realizing she was all alone—with a man she barely knew. What was going on? Her heart thumped in her chest. Where was he?
“For you, lady.”
She turned to her right as he handed her a large bouquet of wildflowers. Her eyes met his as she took the bunch gently and her hand brushed his. She felt its roughness. Enchanted, not able to take her eyes away from his, their gaze remained locked. “Thank you,” she managed to mumble.
“You are welcome.”
Breathlessly, she held the bouquet tight, knowing he was right there. She wanted to remain looking at him so badly, but could not. Heart pounding, head down, finally she peered up. How should she conduct herself with this coachman?
“Again, you look pale,” he noted.
“What?”
“The color has drained from your face. Is it too warm for you in the carriage?”
“I...”
Concern in his eyes, he pulled himself into the opposite seat of the coach. “Are you ill? Would you like to rest a moment?”
Her heart was racing so hard she couldn't speak. Still clutching the flowers, she looked into his eyes—such a beautiful color—and she was keenly aware of his lean body so close to hers.
He touched her hand for a moment, and a tingle raced through her. He leaned toward her and their eyes locked. She took in the details of his face and his dark hair. Please kiss me ... His face was so close to hers, and he was watching her intently. Oh please...?
He moved away from her, and she saw regret in his face. She knew—and so did he—that he should not be in the carriage with her.
“Perhaps you should step outside for some fresh air. I will assist you, of course.”
“I am fine, thank you,” she forced herself to say.
“Are you quite sure?'
“Yes. Quite sure.”
Then he was gone, and she felt movement as he climbed back up on the carriage. She admired the massive assortment of pink, gold and greens she held in her hand. She had never experienced such attentiveness, and from such an attractive man. What was it about him? Why was she having these feelings? Emotionally drained, she sat back. She should be relieved he was gone from the coach, yet his absence left an emptiness she couldn't explain.
The horses moved forward and her journey resumed. Goodness! She now had a gift in both hands.
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* * *
Chapter Three
That night Kitty had trouble sleeping. Tossing and turning, she couldn't stop thinking of him. Of Grey.
Sighing, she sat up and leaned over, grabbed her candle and lit it. Feeling cold, she went to get another blanket. A fire would be nice, but it was far too early to fetch anyone to do that. She supposed she might be able to start a fire if she tried, but she didn't want to.
A glance outside showed dawn approaching. What time was it? Four in the morning? Shivering, she decided to try building a fire after all. Covering herself with the blanket, she moved to the fireplace. In several minutes she heard the sweet, beginning crackles of fire. She peered down at the logs as parts of them got hot and golden and sputtered.
She had to stop thinking of him. Grey. Yawning, she knew she needed more sleep, yet knew sleep would not come. It was wrong to feel an attraction for someone below her class—it would never work, she could never marry someone like that—and she instinctively clung to what she knew was correct and familiar. Grey might be attractive, but thinking about him made no sense. Nothing could ever come of it. These musings had to stop.
The thought of Nebry Castle soothed her, giving her something positive to think about. Mama said they were invited to dine with the Earl of Breyton and his family the week after next. Visiting them was always enjoyable. Her new green taffeta dress might be appropriate for that dinner. She would weave long strands of pearls in her upswept hair. Pearl earrings would be perfect as well. Just a mere pat of rouge on her lips could be applied, for contrast. She could do that after a bath with lavender water.
She would study Edward at the next opportunity. He was a decent young man, and it was expected she would marry such a man. Usually, she spoke to him of little things such as the seasons or the new art their parents had acquired. No, the next time she would seek him out. She planned to ask him different sorts of things such as what he enjoyed reading. Would he like to join her and Margaret for painting one afternoon?
It was logical to get to know him better. Even though they had been friends since childhood, she knew nothing of his inner feelings or his preferences. She needed to search them out. It wasn't that she was worried someone else might come along and catch Edward's eye. That would never happen. It was just that she belonged at Nebry.
Her thoughts trailed to Grey.
Was she trying to convince herself to marry Edward? The gold and red flames glowed and warmed her. Lying against the rug, Kitty tightened the blanket around her. The noises from the fire held her transfixed as she lay there watching. The flames were getting bigger and bigger as they whispered around the logs. A dreamy sensation washed over her, and her lids felt heavy as the logs became engulfed.
Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was of Grey's beautiful eyes.
* * * *
“Kitty, wake up!” Margaret exclaimed, running into the bedroom.
Opening her eyes, Kitty was surprised the room was bright. It was morning.
“Silly, why are you lying on the floor?” Margaret asked, her brown eyes gleaming.
“I do not know,” Kitty lied. Sitting up, she looked around. “What time is it?”
“Never mind that. A letter has come for you.”
“A letter from whom?”
“I do not know. I cannot read through the paper.” Margaret smiled, handing her sister the envelope. “It has just arrived. Here, open it.”
Kitty took the envelope and immediately saw the royal coat of arms. “It is from the duchess, I think.” Kitty ripped it open. “I wonder what...” Her eyes took in the words.
“What is it?”
“Please get Mama,” she said urgently.
“What is it?” Margaret asked again, as her sister thrust the letter into her hand. Margaret read it. “They want you to spend the night at Claremont. How wonderful!”
“Where is Mama?”
“I shall ask the maid to get her, but do get up off the floor,” she ordered. “I shall only be a moment.”
Margaret left the door ajar and ran down the hall. The footsteps stopped, followed by muffled words. Then her sister returned.
“I asked the maid to send Mama to your room,” Margaret said.
“Why would they possibly want to include me?”
“To keep the princess occupied. Evidently she cares for you, or she would not have given you the portrait.”
“I fail to see what one has to do with the other. Yesterday, I gave her a lesson. Today, I am told I must accompany them overnight to Claremont.”
“And Claremont is her uncle's house,” Margaret pointed out.
“It will be interesting for you to accompany them, Kitty. It must be wildly exciting for you.”
The door opened, silencing Margaret. The duchess, freshly dressed for morning in yellow and white, breezed into the room.
“Mama, look at the note I was just sent.”
“Note?” The duchess looked about. “What note?”
Margaret retrieved it off the unmade bed. “This note, Mama. It has come from Kensington Palace.”
There was a sparkle in the duchess's eyes as she scanned the letter. “Charming.”
“Charming? Mama, I am not prepared at all.”
Her mother said softly, “It sounds to me like there is a young child who is anxiously awaiting your arrival. We must begin packing, posthaste.”
“I shall never be ready in time.”
“The missive says a royal carriage is picking you up soon.” She turned to Margaret. “My love, could you run down and ask for a large tray of breakfast to be brought up to your sister with an extra pot of tea?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Let us pack a small trunk. You'll want to make certain you have whatever you might need.”
Kitty watched her mother gather up clothes, books, bottles of fragrances, and a picture. “I shall even have a fresh quilt folded and packed for you. Would you like your sketching tools included?”
“I must have them.”
“And would you like something soft and warm to wear to bed?”
“Yes.”
“Besides what we have spoken of, is there anything else you would like packed? Of course, I will tell the maid to pack some sweets for you.”
“What kind of sweets?”
“I suppose you will have to wait and see until tonight.”
Kitty laughed. Leave it to her mother to make everything feel like an event.
* * * *
At precisely five minutes to twelve, with the sun high overhead, the royal carriage arrived to take Kitty to Kensington Palace. She hugged her mother before she left the house.
“I will see you tomorrow, late in the evening. I'll not go to sleep until you are home.” Her mother's embrace was warm.
“Thank you,” Kitty said.
She headed out the door and to the street. Her trunk was being loaded by another young man, whom Kitty had never seen. Where was Grey? Dare she ask? The new coachman gave her his hand to steady her as he opened the door. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon.” Kitty settled into her seat with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Grey would be company for her on the trip to Kensington Palace. She knew no one at Kensington or at Claremont, for that matter. That was the source of her disappointment, surely. Nothing more.
To pass the time, she concentrated on her upcoming plans at Nebry Castle. In ten days, her family would be dining there. She pictured the green hills at the castle and the thick woods. She tried thinking only of Edward. Yet Grey's image kept slipping into her mind. No, Nebry Castle was where she belonged as a lady. She imagined herself in the fine drawing room there, done in hues of blue, with the many ancestral paintings framed in gold on the walls. She and Edward would ride the estate's green hills and thick woods.
Soon they arrived at Kensington, stopping near a row of carriages amid a flurry of activity. Other carriages were being packed and the horses checked. Maids carried bundles of goods out of the building, while men conveyed the heavier trunks. How many carriages were needed for an overnight stay? Was it four? Five?
“Miss, would you like to get out?”
The coachman held the door open for her, but there was another well-dressed man speaking to her.
“Yes, yes.” She struggled out of the door and held out her hand to the nicely dressed gentleman for assistance. “Thank you,” she said, stepping down. She clutched her bonnet as a great burst of wind whipped up behind her.
“Are you the painter?”
Although it annoyed Kitty to be referred to in that way, she nodded. “Yes.”
“You will be seated in the second carriage.” He pointed behind him. “We will make sure your things are packed.”
“Thank you.” She moved to the waiting carriage, her hand on her head, holding the bonnet in the event there were any more sudden gusts. For a moment she allowed herself—with eyes half lowered lest she be discovered—to search the landscape for the handsome coachman. As she did, she felt small drops of rain. She supposed she didn't mind the rain if it gave her an excuse to sit in the carriage and search for him unobserved. With no footman there, she opened the door and got in by herself. A sudden burning disappointment filled her when she didn't see his distinctly tall frame. Instead, the Duchess of Kent approached the carriages, holding her daughter's tiny hand.
Kitty prayed the duchess wouldn't sit with her. What would she possibly say? To her immense relief, the duchess brushed past her carriage with her large hat and entered another one with the young Victoria.
Suddenly, an elderly lady opened the door and stepped into the carriage without assistance. She was slight with graying hair. Sighing deeply, she sat across from Kitty. She removed her bonnet and placed it next to her on the seat.
“Ah!” She smiled. “Feels wonderful to sit down at last. I am Lady Morelander. Countess of Morelander. And you?”
“I am the art instructor.”
The countess laughed. “Not what you do, what is your name?”
“Kitty. Lady Kitty.”
“Ah, you are the daughter of His Grace. So glad to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you. It is equally nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Morelander.”
“I am one of the duchess's ladies. There are only three of us on this trip.”
“Why only three of us?”
“Because that is all we need for a three night stay.”
“Three nights!” Her heart pounded in her ears. “You cannot really mean three nights.”
What about the Devonshire Ball? She would miss it! And what about her clothes?
She peered out the window frantically. The carriages were about to move. What should she do? Getting up, she waved her hand out the window to attract someone's attention.
“Dear me, what is wrong?” the countess cried.
A moment later, Kitty felt a warm hand on hers—through the window—and a soothing voice. It was him.
“Can you open the door?” she pleaded, her emotions aflutter.
He opened the door, helping her to the ground.
“I did not understand this was a three day trip,” she whispered in Grey's ear. “I packed only for one night.”
“It would not be in good taste to hold up the royal family. If you can only stay one night, then someone will bring you back, my lady.” He chuckled. “I do not believe you are being kidnapped.”
Looking at him, the words sunk in. How foolish she must seem. “Fine, you are right, of course. Help me back in, please.”
“As you wish.”
Reseated, she covered her eyes and didn't look up until the carriage moved. What could she possibly say to Lady Morelander? Kitty took deep breaths until she recovered from her embarrassment.
“My lady, please accept my profound apologies.”
“Of course, dear.”
“It is just that I did not know it would be a three night trip. I thought it was only for one night, and I am not sufficiently packed. I do not know what I shall do.”
“Do not despair. We will think of something.”
“I hope so. I have only one dress.”
“Dear me! Well, we shall find a solution, I am sure. Try and enjoy the fresh air.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for understanding.”
“It is a lovely ride to Claremont. Have you ever been there?”
“My goodness, no.”
“Then I shall tell you all about it.”
As the countess began her recollections,
Kitty leaned back in despair, her spirits decidedly low. The Devonshire Ball ... she would miss it!
* * * *
It was frightfully hot when they approached Claremont. Beads of sweat had broken out along Kitty's face, near her hairline. She wished for a handkerchief and a cool glass of water. The white mansion looked pristine on a glorious expanse of rolling land.
Not knowing the protocol made the situation difficult. In her own world, made up of many upper-class families, manners, expectations and rules of polite society were firmly embedded. With this royal entourage, things were different. Her place wasn't among them.
The royal caravan rolled to a stop and people hurried out, talking loudly. Kitty didn't see the princess, but assumed she had slipped into the house with her mother.
“If you help me out, you can follow me and I will show you where we are staying. I have done this before ... many times,” the elder woman said.
“Very well.” Kitty climbed out first and turned to lend a hand to the older woman.
“I'm getting rather old to be doing this.” The countess dusted her skirt. “Follow me to the side entrance and I will show you where we stay.”
“Thank you. Our trunks ... will they carry them in for us?”
“Of course. They are depositing our things in our rooms now. Servant quarters are being prepared for us as we speak.”
Kitty giggled. “Do you mean the servants have servants?”
“Something like that. Well, I should say rather than us being servants, it is more that we are companions to the royal family.”
“Companions?”
“In a manner of speaking we are. But we are not to be too familiar with them. We must remember our place.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And so we wait and rest for when they need us.”