Willowswood Match

by Gayle Buck

  “Then I shall not call her back. The other three ladies all appear most qualified. It is simply a matter of which you prefer. Shall I ask each of them in this afternoon so that you may talk with them? I requested that they all remain at Willowswood another day for a decision to be made,” asked Miranda.

  “Of course I shall talk with them,” said Anne. “I do appreciate that you are handling the greater share of this, Miranda. I am so much stronger, but I do not think that my nerves would support such drudgery just yet. I am especially grateful to the doctor for sending Grace to me. She is a jewel and knows just what to do.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Since you have been up and about, you have needed your own maid,” said Miranda.

  She kept to herself the heartfelt comments of her companion, who had acted as lady’s maid to both Miranda and Anne while at the same time endeavoring to keep an eye on the lively Robert.

  “I am that happy to have another woman in the house, Miss Miranda. I was beginning to feel all at sixes and sevens what with Mrs. Townsend’s requirements and watching the boy,” Constance had said one evening while brushing Miranda’s hair before bed.

  Miranda had looked at her in the mirror. “And I am such a trial as well.”

  Constance shrugged and gave a small half-smile. “You are as you have always been, miss. Though you have been thoughtful and do tend to yourself more than some other ladies would. I won’t deny that has been of help to me.”

  Miranda turned on the bench and caught the older woman’s hands. “Constance, you are more appreciated than I can possibly tell you. You and I have been together a long time. And in the last months I do not know what I should have done without your support and advice. That fix I found myself in with Harrison Gregory… Well, we shan’t dredge that up! But you have always been my companion and friend. You must know I value that about you,” she said.

  Constance Graves’s eyes went a little misty. She gave a decisive sniff. “Now that is enough sentiment for one evening, Miss Miranda. You will have me crying like a baby if you do not leave off.” She took up the brush again and vigorously put it through her mistress’s thick hair.

  There were a few moments of companionable silence. Then a thought occurred to Miranda. “Constance, I know that you have become very attached to Robert. Would you mind awfully if his lordship were to find a tutor or governess for him?”

  The hairbrush paused in its action. “Why, I have not given it much thought,” said Constance slowly. She brushed a few strokes, turning it over in her mind. “I am fond of the boy, true. But my feelings would not be hurt to have him given over to someone else, if that is what you are asking. Master Robert is a lively one and I am lazier than I used to be. He does need someone who is better able to enter into his flights of fancy.”

  “Flights of fancy,” repeated Miranda. She sighed. “He manages to escape us all at times, does he not? Willful and brilliant and adventuresome is our Master Robert. I think that I shall advise his lordship to find a youthful tutor, one who has not quite forgotten what it is to be a child. Perhaps there is one who can channel Robert’s energies into less harrowing occupations. Did I tell you that yesterday he managed to elude me, just for a moment, and I subsequently discovered him dangling from the third-story window ledge? He wished to see the sparrow’s nest, he said. My heart was in my mouth, I assure you. It took both Crumpet and myself to get him safely back inside.”

  “I will warrant that Crumpet’s face was a picture,” said Constance with cold-blooded amusement.

  “He could have been no more white than I! And then Lord Townsend walked into the room. Robert danced over to him as happy as you please to recount his little adventure. Such a look Lord Townsend gave me! After he had sent Robert off with Crumpet, he very politely informed me that he was astonished that I allowed the boy such latitude. I was never in my life more mortified,” said Miranda.

  Constance gave a last swipe to her mistress’s gleaming hair. “I should think his lordship would understand, seeing as how Master Robert has played off a few of his tricks with him as well.”

  “Yes, but somehow that is different, you know. That incident with the horses was quite unavoidable, whereas I should have kept Robert somehow chained to my side. I shall never understand a gentleman’s logic,” said Miranda with a touch of asperity, rising from the bench and slipping off her robe. She got into bed, yawning widely.

  “I doubt the gentlemen have any more claim to logic than women, despite their claims to the contrary. Remember Mister Gregory’s reasons for wishing to wed you? It was not only your ties to a shipping family that intrigued him, you will recall,” said Constance, preparing to leave the bedroom and seek her own bed.

  Miranda grimaced. “Truce, Constance. My independence posed a challenge to Gregory. He admitted it to me. But it was hardly logical for him to believe that once we were engaged, he could mold me into his ideal of womanhood!”

  “Good night, Miss Miranda,” said Constance, and softly closed the door. Miranda reached over to blow out the candle on her bedside table and slid lower beneath the bedclothes. She was asleep almost instantly.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  Anne told Miranda that she and Richard were not too well known to their neighbors since they had taken possession of Willowswood only ten months previously. She was therefore looking forward to getting better acquainted. Miranda wondered that her cousin did not harbor any ill feeling toward her neighbors for their lack of concern when she was ill, but kindness was an integral part of Anne’s nature. Anne Townsend rarely said a disparaging word about anyone, and when she did it was always tempered with a possible excuse for that person’s behavior.

  The first invitation that those at Willowswood received for an evening’s entertainment came from the local squire and his wife. Mrs. Earlington and her daughters paid a morning call shortly after the Reverend Averidge and his wife, and extended a personal invitation to a dinner dance. Though Anne said that she did not think that she was yet up to dancing since the least exertion still tired her, she announced quite firmly that Miranda and Andrew were to enjoy themselves and not bother about her. She would sit quietly with the matrons and enjoy a comfortable coze while her cousin and brother-in-law took advantage of the dancing floor.

  Miranda also looked forward to the evening. It had been some time since she had whirled about on the dance floor. She knew herself to be a graceful dancer and so had never been anxious about her ability as so often was the case even with ladies considered beyond coming out.

  Not wishing to stand out too obviously as a colonial, Miranda dressed carefully. She chose a gown with a demi-train that had been sewn for her by a talented seamstress who was not above making tiny adjustments to patterns gotten from England. Though recognizable as a current fashion, the gown had a fresh quality that was rare for a made-up pattern. Tucks of gossamer lace and satin ribbon adorned the low bosom, the sleeves were slim and reached over the hands from the wrist bands. The skirt was open in front to reveal a lavishly ornamental petticoat.

  Constance fixed Miranda’s hair high on the crown of her head, pulling forward wispy curls to soften her face. Miranda wore an amethyst set that had been her mother’s. The lilac stones glowed softly in her dainty ears and in the necklace clasped about her neck. Placing a cloak over her shoulders, she took one last glance in the mirror, and with a friendly word to Constance, left the bedroom.

  * * * *

  Lord Townsend was already downstairs waiting for the ladies. When he saw Miranda, his eyes took on an appreciative gleam. “Well, well. You look most lovely this evening. Miss Wainwright,” he said.

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Miranda, feeling her heart beat faster when she looked at him. She thought that she had seldom seen a more handsome man. The viscount’s hair was brushed into the fashionably disheveled look of a la Titus, which emphasized the planes of his lean face. His moderately high shirt points were starched to perfection, his stark white cravat was intricately t
ied and secured with a diamond stickpin that flashed under the light whenever he turned. His superb shoulders were set off by the close cut of his black evening coat. Beneath a dark gray satin waistcoat, he wore a ruffled shirt and fobs hung from black ribands at his trim waist. His black breeches outlined muscular thighs and calves. In short, Lord Townsend was splendid in evening gear. Miranda was irritated that she felt a constraint on her part as they spoke. He was still the same gentleman that she had learned to like, she reminded herself.

  Anne came down soon after Miranda. The viscount handed the ladies into the carriage and got in himself for the short drive to the squire’s place. Miranda inquired of Anne what she knew of the Earlingtons.

  “It is generally known that Squire Earlington is a sporting gentleman. As for Mrs. Earlington and the daughters, you may judge for yourself from their visit. They are a healthy lot and genteel to boot,” said Anne.

  The squire’s house stood on a small wooded hill above the village. George Earlington was a congenial gentleman who welcomed all to his hall with expansive goodwill. He was generous to a fault and treated his family with unusual latitude. His overwhelming interest was breeding the best hunting hounds and his reputation exceeded the limits of the district for several surrounding counties.

  The squire was a hardy gentleman who believed strongly in the positive effects of good bloodlines and had chosen his wife accordingly. Mrs. Earlington was a good-natured well-built woman who had admirably proven the squire’s theory. She had not been sick more than a handful of days in her life and she was capable of putting long hours into her responsibilities. As a consequence, the squire was a contented man. The manor’s reputation as an oasis of comfort and ease reflected well on him and if he regretted at all Mrs. Earlington’s tendency to produce daughters he was never heard to voice it.

  However, Mrs. Earlington knew herself to have failed in this one area. Though she loved all three of her daughters with the same generous spirit as did her worthy spouse, she sighed from time to time with regret that there would not be an Earlington of Earlington to carry on the squire’s torch. But she was nothing if not a practical woman. The squire’s pronouncements and good fortune in breeding much sought-after hounds had not been lost on Mrs. Earlington. When she had thought about it, she concluded that her daughters came from some of the best blood around and she made up her mind that every one of the Earlington girls was worthy of a gentleman from good family and background. Her ambition became to settle her three daughters in just such a happy situation as she had found with the squire so that she could look forward to the advent of healthy, strong grandchildren.

  Accordingly, Mrs. Earlington’s greeting to the ladies was cordial but her greeting to Lord Townsend was a bit more effusive. Viscount Wythe was handsome, eminently eligible, and from all accounts well-heeled. Whomever he bestowed his name on would never go about in rags, Mrs. Earlington was certain of that.

  “My lord, how good of you to grace our small gathering. I told the squire but this morning how your attendance would be the capstone of what looks to be a fine evening. Pray do come with me. I should like to introduce you to the squire and my daughters,” she said.

  With her hand firmly attached to Lord Townsend’s sleeve, Mrs. Earlington spared a glance for Anne and Miranda. “Mrs. Townsend, I am certain that you know quite a number of people. Mrs. Averidge, for instance, was just telling me of the most pleasant visit that she had with you last week. Here she comes now. I am happy to see you again, Miss Wainwright. I have always had an interest in the colonies. Perhaps we shall speak more later. This way, my lord.”

  Lord Townsend had been startled by the lady’s degree of friendliness, but his expression smoothed to its usual urbanity as he accepted what was obviously his due as the highest socially ranking personage, “Certainly, Mrs. Earlington. I will be glad to make the acquaintance of my sister-in-law’s distinguished neighbor,” he said affably. He allowed himself to be whisked across the ballroom.

  Anne and Miranda glanced at one another, matching mirth in their eyes. “I do not think Andrew quite appreciates the impact that he will have tonight,” said Anne.

  Miranda scanned the ballroom quickly. “No, indeed. There must be at least half a dozen more ladies in attendance than gentlemen. And unless I miss my guess, all have already spied the elegant stranger in their midst. The viscount will be busy all evening making the rounds,” she said, laughing, and thinking it a grand joke on him.

  Mrs. Averidge came up to them and spoke gently on general topics. She took upon herself the duty of making the Willowswood ladies known to several personages. Anne was soon ensconced with the matrons, who welcomed her to their midst not only for her own sake but also out of curiosity about her guests. As for Miranda, she was gratified to be asked almost at once onto the dance floor.

  The viscount’s bearing and smart evening dress was of an elegance seldom seen in the provincial neighborhood and the ladies in the ballroom were acutely aware of his presence. He was swiftly judged to be the most attractive gentleman in the room and not only from the standpoint of his refined dress. His very manner, at once arrogant and easy, proclaimed him a London smart. As for the gentlemen, who were the sort to be found at any country gathering talking of horses and hounds, they were not so quickly accepting of his lordship. Those attributes that most appealed to the ladies put the gentlemen off until it was discovered that the viscount was an enthusiastic hunter and spoke as knowledgeably about hounds and jumpers as the next man. Then the viscount’s dandyism was forgiven him and the cut of his coat and the intricacy of his neckcloth ceased to be the objects of scorn among the elder horsy gentlemen.

  The younger set, especially the aspiring dandies, from the first moment of laying eyes on the viscount, recognized him as a blade of the first water. His dress, his mode of speaking, his carriage were all avidly devoured by the younger gentlemen. One voiced the consensus of them all when he vowed that beginning on the morrow he meant to acquire those attributes that lent the London gentleman such distinction.

  “Yes, but does he drive to an inch?” asked one young gentleman who was of a more questioning mind than his fellows.

  “Of course he must. All the London beaux do,” stated a childhood friend impatiently. “It is a requirement, you know.” His companions nodded sagely. Still the one young gentleman looked dubious. But since this thin young man had little actual interest in sporting events and preferred to spend much of his time with his nose buried in the latest papers on agriculture, his opinion did not weigh overmuch with the others, who could be said to be sporting-mad.

  Viscount Wythe was not unaware of the interest he generated and it amused him. He was used to the highest degree of regard, of course, but he was treated with almost a hint of reverence by some of the individuals that he came into contact with that evening. With good-humored contempt he dismissed them variously as toadeaters and social climbers. It did not occur to him that he would have felt astonished if he had not garnered such attention in a small district. It was merely his due.

  Miranda had met many of the young ladies by that time. More often than not they were more interested in her acquaintance with Lord Townsend than they were in her. She could not help laughing to herself at the transparency of their questions and the direction of their conversations. She had difficulty in remembering their names since they all seemed alike in their interests.

  One young lady, however, stood out from the rest. Mary Alice Burton was a brunette of astonishing beauty. Her eyes were violet, her mouth a perfect pink rosebud, her figure slender yet voluptuous. She approached with what Miranda was startled to realize was the wariness of a feline checking out a potential rival.

  Miss Burton introduced herself to Miranda with an assurance born of her exalted position as the reigning neighborhood beauty. “I am Mary Alice Burton. I understand that you are Mrs. Townsend’s cousin from America,” she said. Her tone conveyed the impression that she held America to be a place of barbaric peoples and customs
. She swept Miranda with a sharp glance, appraising the colonial’s becoming hairstyle and well-made lilac gown.

  Miranda smiled. “Yes, I am Miranda Wainwright. And I rather enjoy being an American.”

  There was a momentarily startled look in Miss Burton’s eyes that gave way to a sharper examination of Miranda’s face. “Quite, Miss Wainwright. I do apologize if I sounded condescending, but it has not been long since the states belonged to England, has it? One learns a certain attitude, of course.”

  “I am certain one does,” said Miranda with a hint of amusement. She could see that she had irritated Miss Burton, and smiled with all the friendliness at her command. “I believe you and I need not spar further, Miss Burton. We have already taken one another’s measure, do you not agree?”

  “Indeed. And as such is the case, let us be completely frank with one another,” said Miss Burton. Her beautiful eyes were chilly. “You are in a unique position as Mrs. Townsend’s cousin and guest, Miss Wainwright. I think you know to what I refer.”

  “I believe I do. You are not the first lady this evening to inquire into Viscount Wythe’s background and eligibility, Miss Burton,” said Miranda dryly.

  “But I am the only one of consequence,” replied Miss Burton, smiling slightly. Her face was as pleasant to look at as a new-blown rose, until one chanced to register the hard expression in her eyes. “I already know Lord Townsend is a bachelor, and a wealthy one. I do wonder, however, about the extent of your relationship with his lordship.”

  “I beg your pardon?” said Miranda, stupefied.

  “I don’t think that your wits have gone begging of a sudden, Miss Wainwright! I wish to know if you fancy yourself a viscountess as do these others,” said Miss Burton impatiently, with a dismissing gesture of her fan at the crowded ballroom.

  Miranda felt the edges of her temper curl. “My dear Miss Burton, I shall not confide in you one particle of my thoughts. What I think of your impertinence can well be imagined, however.”