Lady Lynden glanced in sympathy at Miss Darcy. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Darcy. I wouldn't think of letting your charming daughter leave Thornedene in such a state.
My dear, would you like to go upstairs and rest for a short while?"
"I think Mrs. Darcy is speaking of Puffy being tired and worn, Mama," Anthea said, enjoying the sight of Ryven squirming as Puffy hopped onto his lap and began shedding long, white hairs all over the front of his coat.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Lady Lynden stifled a smile.
"If Judith isn't fagged, she should be. We cracked a wheel and had to stop to get it repaired. That's why we're late, and to tell the truth, Lady Lynden," Mrs. Darcy leaned forward to get her cup refilled and have another cake placed on her plate, "the accommodations were not of the best."
Lady Lynden plied her with extra cakes. "In that case, Mrs. Darcy, could I offer you the opportunity to rest and refresh yourself a few minutes upstairs? You do look quite tired."
"Really, Mama, I don't think we have time, and what with the weather—" Judith Darcy began, but Ryven interrupted her.
"I do believe a little rest would help you make it through the rest of the journey, Mrs. Darcy. The snow seems to be tapering off. If you wish to rest for an hour, we can still be at Morven before dark."
Anthea glanced out the window. It seemed to her that the snow had increased, but surely Ryven had noticed that. She turned her attention to what her mother was saying. "It's settled then," Lady Lynden said briskly as she rang for the servants. "I wouldn't dream of allowing you to continue your journey as fatigued as you are, my dear Mrs. Darcy. Ryven, I'll send a footman on horseback to Morven to tell them you'll be there later."
Recognizing a natural commander, Ryven nodded. 'That will give me time to make sure Dickon is settled in with his mouse and baggage." He looked around the room as Anthea avoided his eyes.
"By all means, make sure the mouse is settled." There was an acid edge to Miss Darcy's voice, but Ryven smiled blandly at her.
"Boys do get attached to pets/' Lady Lynden said. "I'm sure you care a great deal for your pet, Mrs. Darcy."
"Oh, my, yes! I couldn't live without my Puffy." Puffy answered to this by jumping across Lady Lynden's lap and making a halfhearted lunge at Ryven's boots, but Ryven merely picked him up and handed him to Mrs. Darcy. "In an hour or so then, ladies?" He turned to leave, and Anthea could have sworn he winked at her.
As soon as Mrs. and Miss Darcy were settled in behind closed bedroom doors to rest, Anthea turned to her mother. "How could you?" she demanded.
"Anthea, really! Have we ever turned a weary traveler away from Thornedene?" Lady Lynden paused a second. "I do believe you should have Parrish look at that gown before the stain sets." With that she was off down the stairs, leaving Anthea standing there. Anthea/heard Ryven's voice at the foot of the stairs and did the only thing she felt she could do in the circumstances —she fled to her room and rang for Parrish.
An hour later, dressed to Parrisb's satisfaction in another gown, Anthea started down the stairs. Ned and Dickon came running up the steps, whispering loudly. "Annie," Ned gasped excitedly, "do you want to come on up and see Bertram?"
"Who is Bertram, and why are you whispering?" She put her arm around both Ned's and Dickon's shoulders as they stood next to her.
"We have to whisper—Mama said so. She said she'd banish us to the nursery forever if we woke Mrs. Darcy," Ned said, looking around the corner toward Mrs. Darcy's room. "Mama said Mrs. Darcy needed to rest as long as possible."
"And Bertram is my mouse," Dickon added, getting to the most important part before Anthea could ask why Mrs. Darcy shouldn't be disturbed. "Nicholas bought Bertram for me so I could have a little pet of my very own to carry with me when I had to go to Italy. I had wanted a bird, but I'm glad Nicholas got me a mouse. Bertram's ever so much nicer than a bird."
"Yes," Ned agreed. "Annie, you can take him right out of his cage and put him in your pocket—if you want to—as long as you're careful to keep your hand on him."
"You have to keep your hand on him?"
"Nicholas said Bertram might run away if I didn't hold him," Dickon said gravely, "but he likes to be held and petted."
"Do you want to see him, Annie?" Ned asked enthusiastically, tugging eagerly on her hand.
One of the last things—if not the last thing—she wanted to do was hold and pet a mouse, but there was no resisting the appeal in Ned's and Dickon's eyes. "I'd love to," Anthea said. She walked to the nursery between the two of them as they chattered without stopping. Inside, she saw Bertram's cage held the place of honor on a table in front of the window. "So Bertram could watch the snow," Dickon explained gravely, taking Bertram out and carefully handing him to Anthea. "Nicholas says I must be careful and not let Bertram get lost. I watch him every minute he's out of his cage."
"A good idea," Anthea agreed, holding Bertram carefully and scratching him behind one pinkish, almost translucent ear. "I imagine you've grown quite attached to Bertram."
Dickon nodded. "I love him almost as much as I love Nicholas."
"I certainly hope I should rank above a mouse." Anthea turned toward the sound and started as she saw Nicholas lounging in the nursery doorway. "Careful there, Annie," he said, coming across to the window and clasping her hands in his to make a safer bed for Bertram. "We mustn't allow Bertram to escape," he said with a chuckle, "or I think Dickon would have both our heads." He took the mouse from her palms and placed it back in the cage, carefully snapping the latch. "There, Dickon, Bertram's all safe and sound."
"Good." Dickon looked at his big brother with affection. "I wish you could stay for Christmas. When do you have to leave?"
Nicholas ruffled Dickon's hair. "I can't stay until Christmas, but I may be here for a few days —look at that snow."
Anthea felt herself go pale, and she bent over the cage to look out the window. There were several inches of fluffy snow on the ground, and more was coming down fast and thick.
"Oh good!" Ned said joyously. "You can stay and help us build a snow fort. Annie's already promised."
"Ned, I really don't think Ryven would want to build snow forts with us," Anthea said, while at the same time, Nicholas said, "I'd like nothing better! Dickon and I haven't built a snow fort in ages."
"Our fort against yours!" Dickon said to Ned as the two of them danced around in excitement. "We can beat you, I know it!"
Caught up in their enthusiasm, Anthea laughed. "You won't have a chance, Dickon. I warn you that Ned and I are unsurpassed in building snow forts!" She turned, eyes sparkling, to see Nicholas staring at her in an odd way. Quickly she turned away and looked back*out the window to hide her confusion. "At any rate, we can't begin to build one until the snow stops."
"Are you sure you're going to stay, Nicholas?" Dickon asked. It was plain that nothing would please him more.
Ryven nodded. "I just came from talking to Lady Lyn-den. There's plenty of room here, so we'll stay until the road is passable. How long depends on the weather."
Ned and Dickon were ecstatic, planning snow forts, snow men, snow angels, sleigh rides, and skating if the pond froze. Anthea, however, felt the blood drain from her face as she stared numbly at the falling snow outside. Days in the same house with Ryven and Judith Darcy! She didn't know how she would endure it. With a mumbled excuse, she left, leaving Ned, Dickon, and Ryven making plans together.
Anthea evidently found the enforced visit no more disagreeable than did Miss Darcy, who was so overset at the news that she began berating her mother in front of everyone. Miss Darcy felt that if Mrs. Darcy had gone on as
planned, the party could have made it to Morven Hall before the snow worsened.
"On the contrary," Lady Lynden said mildly. "You were absolutely correct to stay here, Mrs. Darcy. Only think what could have happened if you and Miss Darcy had been stranded in the snow."
"So true." Mrs. Darcy sat and fanned herself vigorously. "I don't believe my health would have withs
tood the shock. I'm rather delicate, you know."
"I can see that," Lady Lynden observed, her glance taking in Mrs. Darcy's robust, buxom form. "One should never take chances with delicate health."
Defeated, Miss Darcy flounced to a chair and sat. "Fustian!" she said, glaring at her mother. She didn't dare glare at Lady Lynden.
By the next morning, the snow had stopped, and the sky was a hard, clear blue. The temperature had turned bitterly cold, so there was no chance of the snow melting for several days. "Aye, it'll be on the ground for a long spell," Chatwin said gloomily. Ned and Dickon were in alt. Anthea was not.
"Perhaps," she said to Ryven as she buttered her breakfast muffin, "you and Miss Darcy should ride on to Morven on horseback. I'm sure they're anxious about you."
"On the contrary." He reached for the jam at the same time she did and touched her hand. There was the barest hint of a smile on his face as she jerked her hand back. He picked up the jam and spooned some out. "I couldn't possibly let a delicate soul like Miss Darcy get out in this weather. I'm afraid she'd be quite overset to have to go floundering through snowdrifts while she was trying to look fashionably elegant. It wouldn't do at all. Jam?" He placed the jam pot in front of her plate.
"I merely thought someone at Morven Hall might be worried." Anthea tried to keep her voice level.
"I thought that as well and sent a footman on horseback over this morning to tell them we'd be here for a few days." He looked at her in mock dismay. "Don't tell me you've for-
gotten that Ned, Dickon, you, and I are to build snow forts today? Will you do me the honor of being my partner?"
"Pve already promised Ned," Anthea said, "and it would seem to me that you and Miss Darcy should work together."
"Ah, perhaps, but Miss Darcy isn't promised to me."
Was he saying more than just words? Anthea glanced at him sharply, then rose. "Pm not promised to you either, Ryven."
"No, not any more." He gave her a half smile. "I was young then, Annie. Younger than my years. Perhaps — "
"There's no changing things, Ryven. That's all over and done. Both of us have gone on to other things." She turned and started for the door, but his voice stopped her.
"Both of us? I really hadn't heard that, Annie. Who is the lucky gentleman, and are congratulations in order yet?"
Anthea turned and looked at him, ready to deny any entanglement, but then she thought, why not? Ryven didn't know anything about her life and didn't care. He was merely toying with her, much the way a cat would play with a catnip mouse. She had refused Vincent Wolcott, but at least the mention of his name might let Ryven know that she had forgotten the past. "His name is Vincent Wolcott," she found herself saying, "and I doubt you know him. He's a most exemplary gentleman."
"And by implication, I'm not." He laughed softly, then frowned and bit his lip as he thought. "Wolcott. Vincent Wolcott. I don't believe . . ." He snapped his fingers together and broke into laughter. "Woolie. Good Lord, Annie, you can't mean Woolie—that is, Vincent Wolcott—the secretary to Lord Kilcannon. We were in school together."
"Yes, that's exactly who I mean." She kept her voice neutral. "I'm surprised you know of him. I didn't think the two of you would run in the same circles."
"To tell the truth, Annie, we don't. Wolcott's a damn queer fish. What in the world would you want with him, anyway?"
She didnt want Wolcott, but it was too late to turn back. "I'm shocked at your lack of manners, Ryven," she
snapped, trying to cover up her feelings. Actually the term "a damn queer fish" described Vincent perfectly, but she wasn't going to let Ryven know that.
"My manners havent changed a bit, Annie." He smiled lazily at her.
"No, they're as bad as ever," she said before she could stop herself. "For your information, Vincent is worth two of you on any day." With that, she turned and stalked out the door. Her exit, however, was marred by the sound of Ryven's laughter. "Vincent Wolcott, indeed," she heard him say, and she knew exactly the way he was smiling to himself and shaking his head.
She met Miss Darcy on the stairs. "Is Nicky at breakfast?" Miss Darcy asked. She looked rather frowsy this morning. "My dear Miss Thome, I simply cannot go on without my baggage and my maid. I must talk to dear Nicky about leaving."
Anthea suspected the "dear Nicky" reference was for her benefit, but she ignored it. "You'll find him at the breakfast table," she said shortly, going by Miss Darcy.
"Miss Thome." Judith Darcy's voice was ice. "This is a most unpleasant situation for both of us, but I think we should have something of an understanding between us. I know you were once engaged to Nicky—a youthful infatuation, if you will—and I want you to know that I intend to marry him."
"What either you or Ryven do or don't do is of no consequence to me, Miss Darcy." Anthea tried to make her voice as cold as Miss Darcy's. "As far as I'm concerned, you may have him, and I wish you well."
"Oh, I fully intend to have him." Miss Darcy's smile could only be termed mercenary. For a moment, Anthea almost felt sorry for Ryven—almost. He deserved whatever he got.
"Good luck to you, Miss Darcy," Anthea said, walking on up the stairs. She didn't look around until she had safely closed her chamber door behind her. Parrish was in the room going through her clothespress.
"Lady Lynden wishes me to attend to Miss Darcy," Parrish said, "She also said I was to select some of your things for Miss Darcy to wear since her baggage was sent on to Morven Hall." Parrish pulled one of Anthea's least favorite dresses from the clothespress, one made in a particularly vile shade of bright blue. "I thought perhaps this," Parrish said, her face perfectly straight.
"Parrish, surely you don't intend to do that to Miss Darcy? I've always hated that dress."
Parrish held the dress up and looked at it critically. "That's because it doesn't suit you, Miss Thorne. I think it will do very nicely on Miss Darcy, as will those." She gestured toward the bed where several dresses were piled. An-thea glanced at them, then back at Parrish. "Parrish, take the sprig muslin I had made in London. If I must share, I intend to share the best as well."
With a grimace, Parrish pulled the muslin from the clothespress and added it to the dresses on the bed. "Ikke some underwear, as well," Anthea instructed.
A while later, Anthea felt she had gathered several of her nicest things to send, and there was nothing of which Miss Darcy might complain. Parrish gathered everything up in her arms. "If you dont need me now, 111 go attend Miss Darcy."
"You may not need to attend her past this morning," Anthea said. "Miss Darcy was going to talk to Ryven about leaving, although he did say he planned to stay here until the road was passable.
"That'll be a while. Chatwin says this'U be on the ground for days." Parrish walked stiffly out the door. She didn't relish the prospect of sharing her dear Miss Thome's best dresses and underthings with anyone.
By midmorning Ned and Dickon were to be put off no longer. Anthea left the fire in the drawing room, had to make an obligatory visit to the nursery to see how well Bertram was getting along, then went to her room to bundle up in boots, a pelisse, a scarf, and mittens. It was time to build the snow forts.
To Anthea's amusement, Miss Darcy planned to help them. She originally had declined, saying the cold weather always ruined her complexion, but when she discovered Ryven would be building a snow fort, she decided to join them. It was to be Anthea and Ned against Ryven, Dickon, and Miss Darcy. Ned wasn't in the least worried about the imbalance in the numbers. "I have a plan," he told Anthea.
As they were going out, Miss Darcy met them at the door. She looked as if she were going riding in the park, dressed in Anthea's blue wool, wearing a hat of blue with a white plume, and carrying Lady Lynden's white fur muff. Her feet were daintily shod in Lady Lynden's blue kid slippers that looked to be at least a size, or perhaps two, too small. Ryven looked at her sharply but said nothing. She smiled archly at Anthea, took Ryven's arm, and they waded out into the fresh snow, Anthea following them.
Ned and Dickon ran ahead, shouting and throwing snowballs at each other. "Here, Annie," Ned yelled, throwing a snowball her way. The snowball hit Miss Darcy's forehead and splattered, right below the white plume. She stood stock still for a moment, then began to scream, "You horrid, horrid brat! Look what you've done!"
"I apologize, Miss Darcy," Ned said, dashing up to her. "Here, let me help you." He reached up to try to get the snow off her face but only managed to knock the blue hat into the snow.
"Now look what you've done!" she shrieked again. She tried to stamp her foot in anger but succeeded only in shoving her foot deep into a pile of snow. "Oohhh! Ryven, you should send this . . . this urchin to his room! He should be birched! Soundly!"
"But I apologized," Ned said quickly, looking at Ryven in appeal. "I meant to hit Annie in the face."
"And what would Annie have done at that?" Ryven asked, trying to keep from grinning at Ned. He wasn't successful.
"She'd probably have landed me a facer if she could have gotten to me," Ned admitted.
"Enough of this," Anthea said. "Ned, I've told you to watch your language. And you," she looked at Ryven, "shouldn't encourage such slang." Before Ryven could answer, she turned to Miss Darcy. "Miss Darcy, let me help you." Anthea wiped Miss Darcy's face with the corner of her scarf, picked up the hat, dusted the snow from it, and placed it on Miss Darcy's head. "Do you want to go back inside? Ned would be glad to take you in, I'm sure."
Miss Darcy shoved the hat firmly on her head. "Pm sure he would," she said shortly, "but no, I do not wish to go inside." Her mouth was a straight, angry line, and her cheeks were blazing.
They followed Ned and Dickon without speaking to a level part of the side yard and began building their forts. Anthea and Ned made big solid snow bricks to use for walls and then began making snowballs tq stockpile behind the walls. Dickon and Ryven did the same while Miss Darcy stood there, her hands in Lady Lynden's muff, shifting from first one foot to the other. "Poor Miss Darcy has to be freezing," Anthea said to Ned as they worked. "I can't imagine why she doesn't go inside. She could watch from the window."
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