In My Lady's Chamber

by Laura Matthews

  “Nothing is less likely to inspire virtue than being made to sit still and listen to someone prose on at you about goodness,” she had responded with a certain asperity. “You forget that you yourself were once happy enough to return home from church and run round the orchards in your best clothes, Edward. And don’t be suggesting that we shouldn’t have music or play cards, either. I can’t fathom where the idea came from that one must be miserable in order to show a proper reverence.”

  So Sunday was perhaps the favorite day of the week for the younger children, and they weren’t at all surprised to see their uncle shab off before they all walked into Channock for the service, though they had assured him that Dr. Trainer was on holiday and would have a much livelier replacement. Eleanor’s indisposition had passed, and Lord Steyne accompanied them, walking with Lady Eastwick and sitting beside her in the family pew. Miss Tremere strolled along with the children despite Edward’s attempts to draw her into a theological discussion of the Trinity. And they found their hopes for Mr. Oldbury not unjustified. His sermon was understandable, with no trace of condescension, but a rather positive approach to handling life as it came.

  Edward, however, was incensed at the attention Mr. Oldbury paid Miss Tremere after the service, and chose to distinguish Christina Winchmore with his conversation to show the governess he couldn’t care less. Charlotte, according to her plan to match Miss Tremere and Mr. Oldbury, made every effort to keep her younger brothers and sisters at her side so the governess and the clergyman would have a chance to speak with one another uninterruptedly on their walk back to Charton Court.

  Theodosia brushed back a loose strand of hair and viewed Mr. Oldbury with laughing eyes. "We enjoyed the service, Mr. Oldbury. Amy told me next week she intends to leave her finger-knitting at home, as she won’t need it.”

  "Praise indeed! Dr. Trainer will be gone a month, at the very least. A trip to Scotland at his age is not a matter to be taken lightly, or hurried. I’ll try to bring my best sermons to keep the young ones from being restless. They must be quite a handful.”

  "Oh, they’re most enjoyable. I only have the girls under my charge, really, as Thomas and John are largely away at school. After growing up an only child, I find all of them refreshing.”

  "Is Mr. James Heythrop still at the Court?” Mr. Oldbury certainly hadn’t seen him at his earlier service in Bicknoller.

  “Yes, but he was unable to make it to church. He brought Lord Steyne down with him, and I’m afraid the children are rather monopolizing his lordship’s time. The boys want him to teach them to drive a curricle to an inch and the girls are forever showing him the kittens or their drawings or embroidery.”

  Mr. Oldbury turned his gaze to where the viscount had his head bent listening to Lady Eastwick as they walked. “I don’t suppose he minds. Is he related to the family?”

  “No. At least, not that I know of. His aunt lived in the village where my father was vicar.”

  “So you knew him before he came here?”

  “I met him some years ago.” Theodosia gestured toward a lush growth of whortleberries. “Were you able to find out anything about Whortle Hall?”

  “I nearly forgot!” He regarded her with a crooked grin which, oddly, seemed not at variance with his clerical garb. “Several people I talked to said it’s Wildcroft Grange, though the name was changed ages ago. And there is the supporting evidence that the whortleberry grows there in hearty profusion. Do you know the place?”

  “The Winstanleys are friends of Lady Eastwick’s. I’ve been there a number of times. How fortunate that this will give us an excuse to visit.”

  He regarded her questioningly, but she shook her head with a mischievous smile. Lord Steyne happened to glance around at just that moment, and jumped to a most imaginative conclusion. Theodosia, intent on her companion, failed to notice the arrested look in his eyes.

  Mr. Oldbury was familiar with the Winstanley family, since they were his parishioners, and he met her smile with one of his own. “Their son is home just now. A very dashing naval fellow.”

  “The children love to hear of his exploits.”

  Unerringly, Mr. Oldbury’s gaze sought out Charlotte. "I'm not surprised. He’s an engaging young man.”

  “Fancies often change when you’re seventeen. I believe Mr. Winstanley will be returning to duty shortly.”

  As Mr. Oldbury agreed, Edward moved up to join them, unable to keep to his resolution of ignoring the governess when she so clearly didn’t even notice. His reason told him that the clergyman should be given this opportunity to converse with her alone, but his rebellious emotions could not allow it. After all, she would probably be placed at table near him and that would give them sufficient time to talk. What in heaven did they find to talk about, anyway, when they hardly knew one another? Edward found it immensely difficult to find subjects when he had the rare chance to be alone with her.

  Lord Steyne was finding it difficult to concentrate on Lady Eastwick’s discussion of the boys’ school curriculum. When he glanced around again and found that Edward had joined Theodosia and Mr. Oldbury, he felt distinctly relieved, but a moment’s reflection showed him that such a reaction was beneath him, or at the very least alien to him. Why should he wish to keep her from an intimate discussion with the clergyman? She no longer meant anything to him. Steyne surprised Lady Eastwick by politely interrupting her to suggest that Edward might have some thoughts on schooling and peremptorily gestured to the young man to join them. Reluctant to leave Miss Tremere’s side, but even more hesitant to give offense to his lordship, Edward went.

  Sunday dinner was the one meal to which the younger children were customarily invited to join the adults, but on this occasion, with two visitors, (and possibly James, who was nowhere to be found) Lady Eastwick considered revising their routine. Both Steyne and Mr. Oldbury appeared at ease with the young folk; still, sitting down to dine with them was another matter. Lady Eastwick clearly remembered the previous morning’s breakfast with Amy’s artless comment, and she was not sure she wished for a repetition at the dinner table.

  Theodosia recognized the puzzled frown and suggested quietly, “Why don’t I eat with the younger children in the Small Dining Parlor, ma’am?”

  Although she had said this very softly, a chorus of protests rang out. Edward’s “No!” was the most adamant of them, but Mr. Oldbury was heard to murmur a negative as well, and Steyne with his usual polish remarked, “I beg you won’t banish the children on my account, Lady Eastwick.”

  Lady Eastwick blinked at them all in surprise and then turned to Theodosia with a beaming face. “How delightful to have company who tolerate children! I’m not sure Eastwick would approve, mind you, but they shall join us as usual. And I would certainly not have denied our guests your company, Miss Tremere; the housekeeper could have sat with them.”

  Learning this did not seem to appreciably lessen the approval of her decision, though Edward did mumble, staring directly at Amy, "I trust they will behave presentably.” He received only an angelic smile in response.

  Dinnertime arrived and James did not, so the rest of the party was seated. For all the good it did Edward having Theodosia there, she might have eaten with the children. She was seated beside Mr. Oldbury, as he had known she would he, and quite at the other end of the table from himself. In fact, most of the children were between him and the governess, and due to their chatter he could not hear one word of the discussion there. His mother regarded him sympathetically, with Eleanor and Amy at his sides, but there was no other possible arrangement than to put their two male guests on either side of her. Theodosia, too, smiled at him, that warm, companionable smile that set his pulses racing.

  If Steyne had previously been unaware that Edward nurtured a tendre for Theodosia, and he had been, his eyes were opened during the walk home from church and the time they had spent in the Long Gallery. The boy’s eyes seemed drawn to her almost against his will, and he got the most idiotic look on his face when she
smiled at him. Steyne regarded her closely during the meal but could not see that she encouraged Edward. True, she smiled at him from time to time, but it was not the sort of smile to capture a man’s heart, not that dazed, enchanted smile she had . . . Enough of that, he apostrophized himself sternly. That was long ago, and she was little more than a girl, eighteen and intoxicated with her first love.

  Maturity had changed her. Steyne could not see that she regarded Mr. Oldbury with more than her usual warmth and frankness, her ready laugh and intelligent conversation. That was one thing for which one could not condemn her father. He had educated her himself in every field of study in which he was proficient and had not objected to her pursuing other branches of knowledge if she chose. And her interests, Steyne well remembered, had been wide and varied, and often not the least feminine. He wondered if she encouraged the Heythrop girls to expand their horizons beyond the usual ladylike achievements.

  The conversation had strayed from Caxton’s first efforts on his printing press in Westminster to Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire with scarcely a pause. Lady Eastwick was not a scholar but she delighted in the educated flow of discourse which so clearly brought to mind her husband’s presence. Steyne purposely directed the topics in an effort to assess Mr. Oldbury’s intellect and grudgingly had to admit there was nothing amiss with the fellow on that score. Nor was he overly pious, certainly not sanctimonious. And of course Theodosia would be familiar with life in a country rectory since she had acted her father’s hostess and helpmate from the time she was old enough to walk. The old scoundrel had used her services as housekeeper, errand girl and maid without the least hesitation. Many were the times when they had planned to meet that she had arrived late, breathless; those glorious brown eyes wide with concern, begging his pardon and explaining that Mr. Tremere had sent her off on yet another of the endless tasks he should have taken care of himself: Not that she had put it that way; Steyne had, at first verbally but later, when he saw it upset her, he had merely thought it.

  Apparently Lady Eastwick was unconsciously moved by the undercurrents in the small group about her, for she aided Steyne’s efforts by unearthing, in the most genteel way possible, Mr. Oldbury’s social position.

  “Are you related to the Hertfordshire Oldburys, sir?”

  “Very distantly, ma’am. My family resides in Surrey but I spent one long holiday with them near Stevenage when I was a boy, and they’ve visited Weybridge from time to time. Mrs. Francis Oldbury is a great friend of my mother’s, which accounts for it more than the connection.” He turned to Theodosia with an engaging grin. “And perhaps that my older brother and their daughter are likely to make a match.”

  “You’re Roger Oldbury’s younger brother?” Steyne asked, astonished.

  “Why, yes, do you know him?”

  “Very well. I run into him frequently when I’m in London. I’m surprised I’ve never met you.”

  “I spend very little time in town. Aside from my parish duties I’m at work on a history of Somerset. I fear I am of a more scholarly than social temperament,” he explained apologetically.

  Theodosia’s eyes lit with interest. “A history of Somerset? But that’s wonderful! I presume it is more than an ecclesiastical history.”

  “I should hope so,” he laughed, meeting her eyes with mock reproach. “A great deal of interest occurred here before the first church was built. No, I trace the beginnings from the Britons or Celts, and the Saxon tribe that gave Somerset its name was preceded by the Romans. Surrey, too, derives its name from the Saxons, though not a tribe. Suthrea—south river, which is occasioned by its being on the south side of the Thames.”

  Steyne wore a thoughtful frown. “Then it was you who wrote the history of Surrey I read a few years ago?”

  “My first attempt, and rather a feeble effort, I fear,” Mr. Oldbury admitted. "I've since revised it, however, and hope the next edition will prove more worthy.”

  "I thought it eminently readable—both informative and lively. A remarkable combination for a history.”

  “You are kind, Lord Steyne. I’ve never found history dull, myself, but only the historians who frequently write it, concerned overmuch with facts and dates and forgetting that it is the people in whom we are interested. How did they live, why did they do what they did? And most of all, I find the legends intriguing, the folktales that are passed from generation to generation, growing, changing, but almost always with some kernel of truth to them.” He stopped abruptly and addressed himself to Lady Eastwick. “Forgive me! I never meant to ramble on so.”

  “Not at all,” she assured him. “Eastwick is a history buff. Perhaps I could find your book for him.”

  "I would be honored if you would allow me to present you with a copy. I always keep several on the off-chance I can convince someone to accept one.” He turned to Theodosia. “And I would like you to have one, too, Miss Tremere. I only regret the history of Somerset is not completed, as it might have been of some small help in the children’s researches of the Heythrop family history. But I've gathered extensive materials, and my brother sends me anything he finds in London, so I hope you’ll call on me even at this stage. Covering the whole county means I cannot concentrate on any one area, but being in Bicknoller I've acquired a fair share of local history as well.”

  “You’ve already helped by identifying Wildcroft Grange for us. Perhaps you would allow the older ones to look through any local materials. I would, of course, supervise them.”

  “Certainly.” Mr. Oldbury looked as though nothing would give him greater pleasure. “Bring them to the rectory one day, and I’ll show you what I have.”

  Some perverse devil in Steyne would not allow this to pass. “I wonder if I might join the party? It would be fascinating for me to see how one goes about such a project.”

  Theodosia bit her lip to suppress the gurgle of laughter she felt bubbling in her, but Mr. Oldbury readily assented. Steyne scowled at Theodosia’s twitching lips and pointedly turned his attention to Charlotte, who further disconcerted him by suggesting that she had thought he and her uncle would only be at Charton Court for a few days.

  “Your uncle has some business to attend that may take longer than expected. Of course, we would not delay our departure for a whim of mine."

  Charlotte was not at all sure why he glared at Miss Tremere at this point, but she set herself, as she had been taught, to distract his attention and relieve him of the irritation into which he had unaccountably fallen. The romance between Miss Tremere and Mr. Oldbury, she decided with satisfaction, was progressing very nicely, and she determined to further it by suggesting that she and Miss Tremere would show him the topiary after dinner. Lord Steyne would stay with her mother, and Edward, if he came with them, would surely not pass up a chance to answer Charlotte’s questions on the day’s Bible lesson. Charlotte would tolerate even that to promote Miss Tremere’s happiness.

  This scenario, with major variations (such as every one of the Heythrop children accompanying them), duly came to fruition. Theodosia cheerfully organized a game of Prisoner’s Bar for them and sat with Mr. Oldbury on a white iron bench watching as their voices rose in excitement and they dashed about among the fantastic shapes of the carefully tended trees and bushes.

  “I remember playing . . .” turned into a swift repartee between the governess and the clergyman. There was cricket, of course, but also battledore, peg top, pig in the ring, hoops, trap ball, steal baggage, puss in the corner, cut gallows, Tom Tiddler’s Ground and a dozen others. And the awe one had felt at his first “magic lantern” show, or the surprise she felt at seeing learned pigs and mermaids and horses with five feet at the country fairs. Dwarfs and giants and puppet shows were linked irrevocably in one’s mind with luscious gilded gingerbread and syllabubs. Theodosia didn’t mention that her father, on these festive occasions, had always been a trifle bosky, as though he could not enjoy himself unless he had downed more than his ordinary quantity of brandy, and her memory
of conjurers, contortionists and men who drank fire and ate knives was accompanied by the fumes of strong drink.

  As though the whole family were conspiring to throw Theodosia with Mr. Oldbury, she found herself partnering him at whist against Lady Eastwick and Lord Steyne. His lordship was intent on winning her few pennies, or so she assumed from his concentration on his cards. But Theodosia had played against Lady Eastwick enough to know precisely how her mind operated, and with Mr. Oldbury willing to enter into her whimsical method of attack, the two of them came out the winners of three and six apiece by the end of the evening.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was after Mr. Oldbury had left, and Lady Eastwick was helping Charlotte gather her shawl and workbox, that Steyne cornered Theodosia and murmured, "I want to talk to you.”

  “About my winnings?” She dug in the tiny reticule and produced the three and six. “I could tell it upset you to lose this evening, my lord. Are you hard-pressed? Here, have them. They won’t go far, but I could make you a loan if you wish.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Doe.” He was tempted to shake her, goaded by the teasing light in her eyes. “On the porch, in ten minutes.”

  “I don’t think . . ."

  “Be there . . . please.”

  “Very well, but twenty minutes. I should see Charlotte to her room and she will likely wish to talk for a moment.”

  Steyne nodded and moved away from her to allay any suspicions Edward might have. The boy had glared at Mr. Oldbury throughout the card game, though he had himself offered to sit out. In his opinion there was less opportunity to make a fool of himself on the sidelines than playing whist; he was a wretched card player. When Steyne asked if there was any decent fishing in the neighborhood, his gloom abated considerably, and he offered to take the viscount with him in the morning to a spot he knew where the trout were biting. His offer was accepted.