by Gayle Buck
Miranda glanced at him, startled. Surely he did not expect her to believe that he wasn’t pining away for London and all its attractions. He met her gaze steadily and Miranda was the first to look away. The viscount had shown remarkable concentration in pulling the estate together. According to what she had gathered from Crumpet, he rarely sat long over his wine, preferring instead to work into the night. Perhaps she did him an injustice, she thought reluctantly.
“That is just my point, Andrew! Both you and Miranda are sitting here bored to tears, and I shall believe neither of your claims to the contrary. I know what it is like to spend week upon week with idle time on my hands. So not another word of protest from either of you. Once it is learned that I am well, I expect to have invitations from about the neighborhood. Miranda, I insist that you accompany me to whatever functions we are invited to, and as for you, Andrew, I expect that we may rely upon you for escort,” said Anne.
“In short, you insist that we are to be civilly entertained,” said Lord Townsend. There was a smile lurking in his eyes.
“Yes, Andrew, I do so insist,” said Anne, laughing at him.
The viscount sighed and with a shrug turned to Miranda. “Our fate is sealed, Miss Wainwright. It is of no use to beg off, for our captor is heartless and will no doubt lock us in our rooms and feed us thin gruel until we capitulate.”
His nephew’s eyes rounded. “Really, Uncle Andrew? Will Mama really do that?”
That brought laughter from around the table. Still grinning, Lord Townsend nodded at his nephew. “I am sorry to say so, but yes. Your mother can be a very stern lady when she chooses.”
Anne leaned forward to put an arm about her son’s shoulders and hugged him. “Your bad uncle is funning again, Robert. Not that I won’t feed him thin gruel if he doesn’t learn to behave himself. Now I think it time for you to go up to bed, young man. Your eyes are nearly closing. Mrs. Graves, if you will be so kind as to accompany him?”
Constance nodded and rose. Robert dutifully kissed his mother and went out of the dining room with the maid. Anne looked after them a moment, then turned to Lord Townsend. “There is one other detail that you may look into for me, Andrew. I should like a regular governess or tutor to be engaged for Robert. It is not right that Constance should be obliged to look after him when she has her own duties to attend to.”
“I can assure you that Constance does not mind it in the least,” said Miranda. “And between her and Crumpet, as well as myself and his lordship, Robert is far less likely to fall into mischief than before.”
“Yes, I know. You are all marvelous with Robert. But Constance is also your companion and maid, Miranda, and Crumpet also has a position to maintain. It is not fair to expect such double duty from them,” said Anne.
“I agree. I shall look into it immediately and see if I cannot scare up a proper bearleader for Robert,” said Lord Townsend.
“What a thing to say! Bearleader indeed! Of course, Robert can be—nevertheless, Andrew, I take exception to your term,” said Anne, half-laughing and half-serious.
The viscount chuckled, his eyes dancing wickedly. “I bow to a mother’s blind eyes, Anne.”
Anne had the grace to blush. “I suppose I do think of Robert as being more saintly than he is.”
“Robert is hardly saintly, Anne. I would say he is a normal, spirited, and lovable child,” said Miranda.
Her cousin flashed her a beatific smile. “Thank you, Miranda,” said Anne.
“How admirably you have smoothed the maternal feathers,” murmured Lord Townsend in Miranda’s ear.
Miranda pretended not to have heard him. She rose from the table saying, “Anne, why do we not leave his lordship to enjoy his wine?” Anne agreed and the ladies shortly made their way into the drawing room.
Anne settled herself in a deep armchair with a deep sigh. Miranda looked at her with concern. “Are you all right, Anne? Shall I call for Crumpet?”
Anne shook her head. “No, no. I am fine, truly. I am only a little fatigued by my first excursion. I shall be better presently.”
“Very well. If you do not mind it, I shall play a little on the pianoforte,” said Miranda.
“Oh, I should like it above all things. Music is so soothing to the ear after sitting at table, do you not think?” said Anne.
Miranda sat down at the pianoforte. Playing softly, she soon became engrossed in the music and her thoughts floated with it. Without being conscious of it, she began to sing in a low rich voice.
She was not aware of it when Lord Townsend entered the room and paused, his expression registering surprise. Quietly, he crossed the carpet and seated himself behind her to listen. A few moments later Crumpet came in with the tea urn. The viscount silently gestured for him to leave the service on the sideboard. Crumpet did so and departed, softly closing the drawing room door behind him.
Miranda had played for some time before she chanced to look up at the clock mantel. She was startled to see that it was ten o’clock. She had played uninterrupted for an hour and a half. She was dismayed she had neglected her cousin for so long. Immediately she stopped and fumed on the bench. “Anne—” She was startled to meet Viscount Wythe’s somber gaze.
“You are quite accomplished, Miss Wainwright. It has been a long time since I have enjoyed a musical evening half so well,” said Lord Townsend quietly.
Miranda felt warmth rise in her face. It was disconcerting to realize that he had been listening. “Thank you, my lord. Anne—” Her glance went to her cousin and she saw that Anne was fast asleep in the chair.
“She was asleep when I came in and I did not wish to disturb her. I suspect that your lovely voice acted as a soothing soporific,” said Lord Townsend.
Miranda blushed again at his compliment. She wondered why he honored her so extravagantly when there were probably many musical events that filled the viscount’s usual social schedule. “I knew that Anne was more exhausted than she let on. She wouldn’t allow me to call Crumpet,” said Miranda.
“I do not think that Anne will take any harm from falling asleep in a chair. We will rouse her in a few minutes,” said Lord Townsend. He indicated the tea urn. “Do you care for tea?”
“Yes, I would.” Miranda rose from the pianoforte bench and followed the viscount over to the side-board. She was surprised when he insisted upon serving her.
Lord Townsend gestured to the settee in front of the fireplace. Miranda accepted his invitation and gracefully seated herself. The viscount sat at the other end of the green damask-covered settee and balanced his cup and saucer on crossed knees. “You are a singularly unusual female, Miss Wainwright. Have I told you?”
“Not in so many words, no. I believe that you have touched only on my abominable manners and headstrong tendencies,” said Miranda dryly.
“And I swear that every word I uttered was true. You and I are so often at loggerheads that I have been behind in noticing that you are also a lady of wit and talent,” said Lord Townsend.
“Thank you, my lord. I am sure that is a high compliment, coming from you. I could almost suspect you of setting up a flirt with me,” said Miranda with a smile. She picked up her cup to put it to her lips.
Lord Townsend set aside his tea on an occasional table before he stretched one arm across the back of the settee. His fingers brushed Miranda’s shoulder. His gaze dropped briefly to her deep décolletage before he spoke. “I believe that I am, Miss Wainwright.”
Miranda’s cup rattled loudly in the saucer. She stared at him, disconcerted. There was an intensity in his brown eyes that made her heart begin to race. With a wavering laugh she tried to pass over the moment. “I am flattered indeed, my lord. But really!”
Lord Townsend seemed to take no notice of her interjection. He brought up his hand to gently touch her silken cheek. For a long moment Miranda was transfixed by his expression. Then a vision of her former fiancé rose before her mind’s eye. Abruptly she leaped up, her nervous hands letting go of the cup and saucer. The ch
ina shattered across the Oriental carpet.
The noise awakened Anne, who roused slowly. “Oh, have I been asleep? So rude of me, I am sure.” She blinked at her cousin, who stood motionless with an odd expression on her face. “Why, Miranda, you have spilled your tea! And your skirt is stained.”
Miranda recovered herself. “It is of no consequence. I am sorry for the cup and saucer, Anne. I do not know how I came to be so clumsy. Pray excuse me.” She quickly left the drawing room, passing Crumpet in the doorway. The butler had heard the sound of breakage and had come in to sweep away the pieces.
Anne was a bit startled by her cousin’s hasty departure. “What on earth? It was only a bit of china.”
Lord Townsend endeavored to turn her attention. “Anne, allow me to escort you upstairs to your room. I am on the way to bed myself. It has been a singularly pleasant evening, but I believe that we are all a little fatigued,” he said, bending over his sister-in-law and offering her the support of his arm. Anne accepted his aid with a smile. The viscount chatted companionably to his sister-in-law as they climbed slowly up the stairs and made their way to her door. He handed her into the care of her maid before going on to his own apartments.
As he passed the rooms given over to Miss Wainwright, a faint smile crossed his face. Miss Wainwright had bolted like a startled doe. He found that curious. Perhaps the lady was not as immune to him as she would like him to think. As he entered his rooms Lord Townsend was whistling to himself.
* * * *
The following day Miranda avoided Viscount Wythe as best she could. When she did chance to meet him, she was aware that he seemed amused at her expense and that brought an unbidden blush to her face. She managed to ignore the satiric look in his eyes and speak quite calmly to him.
Lord Townsend’s startling announcement had thrown her into a mild state of confusion. She was astonished to discover within herself regret that she had rejected his advances so conclusively. But she could not so easily set aside the wariness that her last experience with a gentleman’s professed regard had engendered in her.
Miranda thought it best to keep Lord Townsend at arm’s length. He was a London beau and obviously an accomplished flirt. She could not shake the conviction that he was toying with her.
* * * *
Late in the afternoon Crumpet came into the sitting room where Miranda was darning some sheets. He had gotten the post and there was the usual letter from her brother, Jeremy. Miranda immediately tore it open and perused it quickly. Jeremy wrote that he had done all he could with the port authorities and must now go to London to plead his case. He asked Miranda how she was getting along with their cousins and reminded her that she was certainly being better amused than if she had stayed in Falmouth. Miranda laughed a little at that when she thought of the difficulties of the neglected household and her dealings with a lively seven-year-old boy. But it was the often prickly relationship between herself and Viscount Wythe that she shook her head most over.
Jeremy concluded with the London address at which he would be staying. Miranda toyed with the idea of writing her brother with the latest particulars of the situation she had discovered at Willowswood, thinking that she could make it sound fairly amusing. But in the end she decided to say nothing that could possibly create anxiety in Jeremy about herself. He was burdened enough with the fight for the Larabelle, thought Miranda. But she did miss him horribly. His was such a level head and she could have confided to him her confusion over Lord Townsend’s incredible declaration.
* * *
Chapter 11
The doctor’s prediction came true. Almost at once, morning callers began to come to Willowswood. One of the first was the reverend and his wife. Anne very graciously accepted their profuse apologies that they had not been to see her while she was ill.
During the course of the conversation, the reverend made a passing mention of the former owner of Willowswood, and Miranda curiously asked if he had been well acquainted with Miss Claridge.
“We knew Miss Claridge as well as she would allow anyone to know her. Miss Claridge did not encourage visitors. I suspect that she preferred the company of her cats over people,” said the reverend with a laugh.
“I had heard that Miss Claridge was a recluse and a bit of an eccentric. Indeed, Richard only vaguely recalled her from a visit as a boy. He was quite surprised to have figured in her will,” said Anne.
“I am not at all surprised, Mrs. Townsend. Miss Claridge had her odd ways, but she was of an excellent mind. No doubt there was something about Mr. Townsend as a boy that impressed her those many years ago. Besides, one could not expect her to leave an estate such as Willowswood to her cats!” said Mrs. Averidge with a grave smile.
“That would have been eccentricity indeed,” said her husband. He turned to Miranda. “I am glad to see that Mrs. Townsend has family to support her. It is a trial to be ill at any one time, but so much easier to bear when one is surrounded by loved ones.”
Miranda threw her cousin a glance. “Indeed, Reverend Averidge, how true. Of course, it is pleasant also to know that one has the support of neighbors and friends during one’s black days. I am certain that you and Mrs. Averidge must be pillars of strength for those in the community who are less fortunate. I harbor the greatest respect for those who aid their fellow man no matter what circumstances may prevail.”
The reverend’s feelings were mixed. He was not quite certain how to take Miss Wainwright’s statement, whether she had just gently rebuked him for not earlier demonstrating his concern for Mrs. Townsend or paid him a compliment for carrying out his duties in a conscientious manner. Mrs. Averidge, who was not of as agile a mind as her husband, nodded graciously to Miranda. “Thank you, my dear. It is not always easy to carry the burden, of course. But Reverend Averidge and I do try to discharge our duties with a cheerful countenance.”
“Indeed,” murmured Miranda, with a glance at the reverend’s frowning expression.
Hastily, Anne offered the biscuit tray to the reverend and his wife. “Pray do take another biscuit. Or perhaps you would care for another cup of tea?”
Mrs. Averidge had taken another biscuit and was about to nod her acceptance of a second cup of tea when the reverend firmly refused both. She looked at him with a bit of surprise and then regretfully turned down the refill of tea. The reverend leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Mrs. Townsend, Mrs. Averidge and I must be going. But before we take our leave of you, I wish to assure you that you may call upon me for whatever needs you may have. I shall hold myself available at all times.”
“Actually there is a service that you might do my cousin better than any other, Reverend,” said Miranda. She smiled at the sudden wary look in the reverend’s eyes. “I was quite shocked to discover when I arrived that my cousin and her son had been deserted by her household staff. There was fear of the pox, I understand, but surely that is now long since past.”
“The good doctor informed most of us that the fear of the pox was a mistaken assumption, yes. But you must not blame the servants overmuch for their desertion, Miss Wainwright. The pox swept through this area only a few years ago and there are still vivid and painful memories of loved ones lost,” said the reverend gently.
“I quite sympathize,” said Miranda, nodding. “But apparently not all took the good doctor at his word. Reverend, it would be so helpful if you could reassure the neighborhood that Willowswood is not contaminated, so to speak, and that Mrs. Townsend will be happy to receive applications from those seeking a post in the house.”
The reverend’s frown lightened. “I understand, Miss Wainwright. It is a good thought. I know of several who now regret leaving Willowswood’s employment. Yes, yes, I will be glad to be of service in this matter.” He rose and his wife rose with him to proffer their gracious excuses for leaving. Anne, who leaned lightly on Miranda’s arm for support, exchanged pleasantries with her departing guests as they walked to the door.
When the Averidges had stepped up into
their gig and started away and Crumpet had closed the door, Anne looked at Miranda with a pained expression. “My dear cousin, did you have to prick the poor man so?”
“Come, Anne! He well deserved it. Where was he a few weeks ago when you were confined to bed, I should like to know? He admitted that the doctor reported there was no pox. If his conscience bothers him now, so much the better,” said Miranda.
“You have such a combative spirit, Miranda! I almost envy you that. I think that I should have weathered this so much better if I was more like you,” said Anne with a laugh.
“But then we should not get along half so well. Jeremy says when he becomes quite frustrated with me that I am nothing less than a hedgehog,” said Miranda on a laugh.
“What in the world is a hedgehog?” asked Anne. She saw that Miranda was going to tell her and held up her hand. “No, do not tell me. It must be a horrid beast. Shame on Jeremy for teasing you. I think you the finest creature alive to care so for Robert and me.”
“As if I could do less! Anne, we really must discuss what you want done with the household staff. The viscount has hired an under gardener and a gamesman and I have interviewed three women for the position of housekeeper. I am not certain which would be most suitable. Or would you prefer to invite back your former housekeeper, who I gather from Mrs. Crumpet, was from the village?” said Miranda.
“That woman I shall not have again in my house,” said Anne with decision. “She was among the first to leave, spouting wildly of doom for us all, which did nothing to soothe the fears of the others. I was quite disappointed in her too as a housekeeper. She was rather more lax than I should have liked. I was on the point of letting her go when I was taken ill.”