Gemstones

by Janet Lane-Walters

  Margaret turned from the window. "Then I can go to the stables to see Cinnamon. That's the name I've given him for his coat is near the color of the spice. Miss Agatha fears horses and she wouldn't let me ride. Every morning, I sneak to the stables."

  "You can't go yet." Elizabeth rose. "Mrs. Parker is coming to fit our dresses for the wedding. There was enough of the aqua silk to trim mine and Margaret's dresses. We will all look beautiful."

  Nicola laughed at the martyred expression on Margaret's face. "You shall go first and then you can amuse yourself until it's time to prepare for dinner."

  Margaret hugged Nicola. "You are the best of sisters."

  "Tomorrow we'll begin lessons again," Nicola said.

  "The Earl's friends are handsome." Elizabeth sighed.

  "And much too old for you."

  "I shall practice flirting with them. Then when I go to London to make my bows, I'll be ready to take the ton by storm."

  Nicola shook her head. Elizabeth had been ready to conquer society since the day she'd been born. Nicola wished she had a dollop of her sister's confidence.

  The seamstress and her assistant arrived. Margaret tolerated her fitting and then bounded from the room. Elizabeth went next, but she remained while the woman fitted the dress she had designed for her Nicola.

  "You look beautiful," Elizabeth said.

  Nicola looked down and saw how much of her chest the neckline of the gown exposed. She felt more naked than she had this morning when the Earl had commented on her dhoti and shirt. She swallowed. "I do not think the Earl will approve."

  Elizabeth laughed. "He won't be able to keep his eyes from you. Every man in attendance will envy him. Your gown is all the fashion."

  "She's right, Miss," the seamstress said. "The color and the style are perfect for you. And such fine cloth. I seldom see the like here in the village."

  "When will the dresses be finished?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Tomorrow in the afternoon." The seamstress beamed. "Since you have given us your custom, I've had to hire another woman. Miss Rasher and Miss Wythe have asked for dresses to be finished in time for the ball the Baron is holding Friday."

  Nicola bit her lip. She'd forgotten the invitation her grandmother had accepted. She didn't want to attend for she would make a fool of herself. How could she go to a ball when she knew nothing of dancing? Maybe the presence of the Earl and his friends would be reason enough to remain at home.

  "Nica, can we go to the village tomorrow and fetch the gowns?" Elizabeth asked.

  Nicola nodded. "A good idea. We'll take Margaret."

  Elizabeth reached for the stack of carefully copied music. "I must practice in case Grandmother wishes me to play this evening."

  * * * *

  Aldora rose from her seat at the dressing table. "The gray cashmere shawl, Bertha. Though spring is on the way, the nights remain chilly."

  "But not like they were before Miss Nicola came. She has made this house more like it was when we first come here."

  Aldora nodded. Her husband's parents had been contented and had warmth, if not love for their son's wife. She'd always been thankful they had died without seeing the shell the house had become. Drew and Nicola could change the lack of warmth here if only they learned to deal gently with each other.

  She took the shawl from Bertha and walked downstairs to the India parlor. Greene held the door for her. "My lady, you are the first. Shall I pour a glass of sherry?"

  She shook her head. "Later. Drew will do the honors." She stood in the center of the room and once again admired the beautiful objects the girls had brought from India. Carpets with jewel tones patterned like fanned peacock tails. Jade statues of horses and strange beings.

  Through the open doors, she glanced into the music room. Perhaps Elizabeth would play this evening. Drew strode in looking handsome in his gray evening wear.

  "You seem well recovered." He took her hand.

  "I was never ill." She sat on the sofa. "A sherry, please. Then tell me if 'tis true you have sent the dragons back to their lair."

  He laughed. "They are waiting in the village for the London coach." He handed her a glass.

  "My girls are gems and I won't see them flawed by ones such as those two. I hope you choose the next governess with more care."

  "I have promised Miss Gordon a look at their references. Speaking of jewels, I heard about your trip to Oxford."

  "La Drew, she is resourceful and practical and one who can bring you much love."

  He snorted. "You know my opinion of that sentiment and I do not need it."

  "Your autocratic ways will drive her away." Aldora saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. "Don't break her spirit or you will both be unhappy. Since you are determined to marry her, reach for the joy love can bring."

  He looked away. Aldora shook her head. Would he always cast himself in the role of the outsider? Before she could marshal arguments, Tristan strode into the room.

  As usual, he wore black and white. He stopped in front of the sofa and took her hand. "You are looking lovely this evening." He winked. "I quite admire your tactics this morning. How I wish you would come to London. There is a whole generation of women who could benefit from your example."

  She laughed. "Fustian! When will you choose a wife and settle down?"

  "You sound like my aunt. There are many ladies I have yet to...meet. How can I settle for just one?"

  "You need an heir. That needle-nose cousin of yours has no style and will impoverish your estates in a year of two."

  Tristan laughed. "More like fifty. My fortune grows fatter every year."

  Aldora looked up and saw Michael drain his glass and pour another. She turned to Tristan. "Tell that scapegrace to leave the bottle and attend me. Alcohol will never solve problems."

  "I doubt he will listen to you more than to me. Michael, you neglect your hostess."

  The Marquis of Fenwick carried his glass across the room. "Countess, you are looking much better this evening."

  Aldora stared at his glass. "You will look much worse if you continue along the road you have chosen. My condolences on the death of your wife. Tell me about the infant."

  "What's to tell? A girl. I took little note of her."

  She rapped his hand lightly with her fan. "Since she has no mama, she will need her papa. But you will learn that one day."

  Michael shrugged. "Maybe."

  Niall paused beside the sofa. "Countess, I'm glad you're better. Perhaps some whist after supper."

  "If you will consider playing for buttons. I have no taste for gaming."

  "I dare say I can indulge you. Was lucky at the tables last night." He looked up. "The young ladies have arrived."

  Chapter 9

  Nicola stood outside the India parlor where her grandmother entertained the Earl and his guests. While she waited for her sisters, she listened to the Dowager chide the three men. The mild scoldings confirmed her suspicions. The Earl had chosen friends who had demons of their own.

  She sighed. Perhaps there were no unflawed men in this land. 'Twas a shame she hadn't brought Yogi Yakshi with her. She missed his wisdom and she had met so many people who would benefit from his teachings.

  Margaret bounced past and burst into the parlor. "When do we eat? I am most hungry."

  Elizabeth shook her head. "She has no more manners than an elephant loose in the market."

  "Would you like Miss Smythe to return?" Nicola asked. "She held a similar opinion of your sister."

  "And of me. She thought we were heathens because we were born in India."

  "Then you must be patient with Margaret for she is young. If we don't make an issue, perhaps her behavior will improve again."

  Nicola took her sister's arm. They entered to parlor. Margaret sat beside her grandmother. The four men stood near the fireplace. Only Drew didn't hold a glass. For a moment, Nicola studied them. All four were handsome but even with his dour expression, her betrothed made the other men seem pale. She walked t
o the sofa and kissed her grandmother's cheek.

  Drew strode away from the group of men. "Miss Gordon."

  "My lord."

  "Though you've met my friends under less than normal circumstances, I would like to make a formal presentation." He put his hand at her waist.

  His touch brought a rush of warmth she felt sure stained her skin. She wondered if the reaction of her body to his presence was a normal thing. He smelled of the spice soap Margaret had blended for him. He led her to his friends.

  Three pair of eyes appraised her. She wondered if her choice of a sapphire evening dress with pale blue embroidery at the hem and bodice met their approval.

  "Nicola Gordon, this is Tristan Atwell, Duke of Cairnton, Michael Fenwick, Marquis of Fenwick, and Captain Niall Ramsey."

  Each man bowed. Captain Ramsey grinned. Michael Fenwick smiled. Tristan Atwell brushed her hand with his lips. "Charmed," he said. "You are lovely. Shame Denmere has bound you before I had a chance."

  "Fustian," cried the Dowager.

  The Earl's fingers tightened on her waist. Nicola swallowed. Unless she misunderstood, his posture was one of possession. Why, when he'd given no indication of pleasure over the coming marriage?

  She curtsied. "My lords, Captain Ramsey, I am pleased that you have come for the wedding. Margaret, Elizabeth, come and make your bows."

  Margaret dashed over. She faced Captain Ramsey. "The black horse in the stables. Is he yours?"

  Niall nodded. "You have the right of that."

  "And does he run as fast as the wind?"

  "Newly purchased. No time to test his paces."

  "Do you think I could ride him?"

  "Have you a good seat and light hands?"

  "She is a centaur," Elizabeth said. "I don't think there is a horse she can't ride or an animal she can't tame."

  Niall laughed. "Saw proof this morning."

  The Earl shook his head. "You will leave the Captain's black alone or suffer the consequences."

  Nicola stiffened. Why did he choose to challenge her sister in this way?

  Tristan smiled. "Denmere, do you think a vague threat will stop the child?" He turned to Elizabeth. "Do you ride?"

  "Indifferently. I can maintain my seat, but I much prefer a carriage. My talents are not like Margaret's affinity for animals and plants." She opened her fan and looked at him over the edge.

  Tristan laughed. "Come and I'll teach you the language of the fan, though I don't believe you need lessons in flirtation." He paused near the open door of the music room. "Ah, this is new."

  Elizabeth nodded. "We had to leave my pianoforte in Calcutta. 'Twould have cost too much to ship and Nicola wanted to bring other things. When we went to Oxford to sell some gems, she bought this for me."

  "Are you accomplished?"

  "She is a master," the Dowager said. "Her touch is strong and better than many paid musicians. After dinner, she'll show you. Each of my granddaughters possesses unique talents and they had a father who encouraged them to explore their gifts."

  "Miss Gordon, what is your talent?" Michael asked.

  "Gemstones."

  "She is most learned," Margaret said. "She reads the languages of India and knows the legends of their gods."

  "A bluestocking," Michael said. "Pray tell, who is this odd creature?" He lifted a jade statue of a man with an elephant's head.

  "He is Ganesha, god of wisdom and remover of obstacles. Unlike so many of the gods of India, he is gentle and friendly. Indian merchants revere him. When a business fails, he is turned upside down."

  "Why does he have an elephant's head?"

  "'Tis said Shani or Saturn gazed on him and his head disappeared in flames. His mother was told to find the head of the first being she met and put that in place of his. 'Twas an elephant."

  "Amazing," Tristan said.

  "I don't understand this need for a multitude of gods," Niall said.

  "Nor do I," Nicola said. "The stories are ancient and often appear akin to Greek and Roman legends."

  The Dowager approached the group. "Tristan, you may escort me to dinner tonight." She smiled. "My girls have brought many changes to Denmere."

  "Indeed they have."

  Instead of following the others, Nicola lingered near the statue of Ganesha. She glanced at the Earl's stony countenance and wondered what she had done to earn his disapproval.

  "Is there something wrong?"

  He pulled her into his arms. "I asked you to behave like a lady."

  "What have I done? I spoke to your friends and answered their questions. I don't understand."

  "You laughed. You flirted."

  "How can you say that?" She tried to break free of his embrace.

  "I heard of your flirtatious ways when I was at the inn. Devonley was there. He spoke about your charming ways and was much taken with you."

  "My lord, surely you don't believe him."

  Drew didn't know what to think. He'd seen the way she charmed his friends. He'd heard her laughter and remembered another woman's laughter. "Did you flirt with him?"

  She looked up. "My lord, each time I looked at him, I was hard pressed not to giggle. All I could see was the way he looked at the inn after Margaret knocked him down"

  As Drew recalled the scene, he chuckled. "I'd forgotten. 'Twill be hard to keep from laughing the next time I see him."

  Grandmother has accepted an invitation from Baron Rasher to a ball this Friday. Tomorrow, I'll write a note to beg off. Surely now that your guests have come, we won't attend."

  Drew laughed. "Baron Rasher will be delighted to add these eligible bachelors to his guest list. After all, he has a daughter he hopes to marry to a man of higher station than himself. Shall we join the others?"

  "Very well, my lord."

  * * * *

  The next morning, Nicola heard the news she'd dreaded. Baron Rasher had been most delighted to include the Earl's friends among those who would attend the ball. Nicola hurried to the west wing to check the huge room where the wedding party would take place. She stopped in the doorway and was surprised to see her grandmother.

  "La child, I am so pleased with what has been done here. The ballroom shines the way it did in the days when I first arrived as a bride. With flowers from the orangery, 'twill be splendid for the festivities."

  "There's still much to do," Nicola said. "I think I'll cry off from the Baron's ball."

  The Dowager laughed. "The wedding plans are complete. Greene and Mrs. Bowen have matters well in hand."

  A lump settled in Nicola's chest. How could she attend the ball when she didn't know how to dance? Since her father had seldom mingled with the Company families, there had been no need to learn. She searched for another excuse rather than admitted to her deficiencies in the social graces. To say she couldn't dance would give the Earl another reason to question her fitness as his wife.

  "Perhaps our guests would rather not attend since they were not among those invited."

  Again, the Dowager laughed. "La child, you know so little about the ton. Drew's friends are welcome everywhere. I'm sure Miss Rasher swooned and the Baron rubbed his hands when he heard the names of our guests." She turned to leave the room. "What gown will you wear?"

  "The silver silk over a slip of pale aquamarine."

  "I wish my husband hadn't sold the family jewels for there was a stunning necklace and earbobs of aquamarines and diamonds. You must at least have a necklace to adorn yourself. I notice you wore none to the Baron's dinner."

  "I have a string of pearls that were Mama's."

  "They will do." The Dowager swept from the room.

  Nicola followed slowly. She ducked into the India parlor and lifted the jade Ganesha from his niche. The Earl would soon learn she didn't know how to act like a lady. What would she do then? She stroked the cool stone statue.

  * * * *

  "What problem do you wish solved?” The angelic Cairnton lounged on one of the sofas.

  "A major one. The Baron's ball.
I don't want to go."

  "Why ever for? You'll have no lack of partners starting with the men from this house. Even Niall will forgo the card room until he's taken a turn with you."

  Nicola sank on a chair. "That will do me little good. Dancing is one of the sixty-four attributes I lack."

  "Sixty-four?" He laughed. "Surely there couldn't be that many."

  "Singing, playing a musical instrument, combining dance, music and singing, writing, drawing.…" She gulped a breath.

  He held up a hand. "I'll listen to your list another day. Let me drag Michael and Niall from the billiard room. Have no fear. We'll help you overcome your lack of one attribute. When the lessons are done, you will be a polished dancer and have your choice of partners, even if Denmere chooses not to dance."

  "Doesn't the Earl know how either?" If this were true, she could spend the evening at his side and not fear making a cake of herself.

  "Actually, he is a splendid dancer but he hates to display his social skills." Tristan strode to the door. "We must have music. Fetch your charming sister while I roust the others. We'll meet in the music room."

  "But your Grace…."

  "Don't tarry or I'll set a hue and cry through the house for you. If you wish to be a proper countess, you must know how to dance."

  His words echoed the Earl's instructions. She flew up the stairs and entered the sitting room where Elizabeth and Margaret worked on their lessons.

  "What's wrong?" Margaret dropped her quill. A blot of ink spread across the page.

  "His Grace has learned of my deficiency as a dancer. He plans to teach me and wants Elizabeth to play."

  "Wonderful." Elizabeth clapped her hands. "I'm of an age when I too should learn."

  Margaret rose. "I won't stay here alone. Maybe I can talk to Captain Ramsey about the black."

  Nicola shook her head. "You won't ride his horse and don't tease for permission."

  Margaret dashed from the room and clattered down the stairs. Nicola looked at Elizabeth and rolled her eyes.

  "She will have a ride before he leaves," Elizabeth said.