“I would have thought his best course of action to secure his claim on the Stretham-Ely earldom would be to make amends with his ducal cousin,” Kate reasoned.
“So why is he here bothering Mary?” Christopher asked quietly.
A question he and Kate wanted answering, but which would have to wait for another day. Now Teddy was at the door waiting to be noticed. And when Christopher smiled and beckoned her forward, she ran across the room to be gathered up in Kate’s embrace.
TEDDY’S VISITS always put Kate in a better mood. She lost her self-absorption and the frustration with her failing eyesight. With Teddy the focus of attention, Kate was more her old self. It was after dinner, and they were in the salon, replete from one of Silvia’s delectable Italian meals. Kate and Teddy were playing at chess, Teddy moving the pieces for both of them, while Kate sat in state, fluttering a blonde lace fan across her low, square décolletage as if she were at the Opera. She was wearing one of her many velvet gowns, hair dressed and makeup skillfully applied by Fran, and looking every inch the wife of an Admiral Lord.
Earlier, when Carlo had served them coffee after dinner, Christopher had danced the minuet with Teddy as promised, Fran exclaiming she had never seen a finer dancer than Mr. Bryce. To which Kate had quipped neither had she, and then found herself pulled up out of her chair by Christopher to dance with him. It was Teddy’s encouragement that saw her acquiesce. And with everyone settled again, and Christopher strumming his mandora, he nodded to Teddy it was a good time to present her gift.
“Oh, what’s this, child?” Kate asked when Teddy placed a parcel in her lap.
She fingered the parcel, saw that it was tied up with a wide blue silk ribbon, possibly one of Teddy’s hair ribbons, and smiled up at the girl who remained by the arm of her chair, wishing she could see the eager smile and bright eyes of the little heart-shaped face framed by an abundance of red hair.
“It’s for you. Something to help you, and there’s also something to help you know me better,” Teddy said with barely contained excitement, and glanced at Christopher who smiled at her encouragingly.
“Does your Uncle Bryce know what it is?” Kate asked.
Teddy shook her head, then added quickly because the old lady was blind and probably hadn’t seen her head move, “No. It’s a surprise to him, too.”
“Oh, good!” Kate said, tugging on the ribbon. “A surprise for all of us then.”
“It’s a surprise to everyone except my Uncle Dair,” Teddy added, not as confident as before she had handed over her gift. “Because part of the gift is from him. The other part I made myself. You’ll see! I mean—”
“Yes, I will,” Kate cut in and opened out the cloth wrapping.
Inside the parcel was a polished, brass-handled magnifying glass, which was of no use to Kate whatsoever, given her sight was not failing, it had failed. But of course it was the gesture that mattered. She held it up and pretended to look through the lens and smiled and thanked Teddy, presenting her cheek to the girl to kiss.
“Thank-you, my darling. It is the perfect thing for old tired eyes to read newsprint. And I am very sure that soon your Uncle Bryce will have use of it too, because he is—”
“Now, Kate! I hope you’re not suggesting I’m getting old?” Christopher said with mock offence. “No! No one answer that.”
But Teddy was the only one not smiling. She glanced up at Christopher, troubled, but as he continued to smile down at her, she had the confidence to turn back to Kate and confess in a rush,
“Uncle Dair was very sure a magnifying glass would help a person with poor sight. That’s why he gave it to me to give to you. I tried to tell him that not all blind people are the same, that it was different for you, but Granny was there and she said it is bad-mannered to contra—contradict your elders. But Granny doesn’t know you and neither does Uncle Dair. And I didn’t want to disappoint him because it was a very generous gift, wasn’t it?” She tucked her hand inside Kate’s fingers and said near her ear, “I know the magnifying glass can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
Kate put a hand to Teddy’s cheek and drew her closer to kiss it.
“I know you do, child. And it is a very fine magnifying glass, and a lovely gesture by your Uncle Dair. We won’t tell him otherwise, and you will thank him from me next time you see him. Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Ah! I see there you have another surprise for Kate, Teddy,” Christopher announced, peering over Kate’s shoulder into the unwrapped parcel, and hoping to divert everyone to the second gift.
“Mama helped me,” Teddy said proudly, watching Kate unfold and then run her fingers over a piece of embroidered cloth. “But she only did so with the cutting out and sewing up of the edges. It’s a pocket, but it’s a special pocket. Shall I show you?”
“Please do,” said Kate, and held up the pocket.
Christopher laid aside his mandora and with Fran moved to the front of Kate’s chair to better to see the pear-shaped piece of cloth. It was indeed a pocket, with two long lengths of twill sewn to each side of the narrowest end, and which, when wrapped around the waist and tied, sat the pocket, slit side out, on the wearer’s flank over her under-petticoats, but concealed under her gown. Either side of the slit was embroidered with a trail of vine leaves and flowers. The stitchery was very fine, but Christopher could see the workmanship was not up to Mary’s standard. Still it was a lovely piece, and many hours had gone into its construction and embellishment.
“What a fine pocket it is, Teddy,” Christopher complimented. “Perfect for Kate’s handkerchief, etui, and the key to her tea caddy. What do you think, Fran?”
“That Miss Teddy has a fine needle indeed, Mr. Bryce,” Fran said, a smile at the girl. “And that her ladyship will never again lose her handkerchief!”
“Oh, but you haven’t seen it all!” Teddy exclaimed, all worry about the inappropriateness of the magnifying glass vanishing as she turned the pocket slit-side down to show the reverse, which was also embroidered, and where she had also stitched her initials in the corner. “I did this side all myself with no help from Mama!” she said with pride, and looked about at Fran and Christopher before turning to Kate. “This is me,” she said, and taking hold of Kate’s hand guided the tips of the old lady’s fingers over the surface of her needlework. “Now you can see me. Do you like it?”
Kate’s fingertips trailed over every bump in the embroidery, and at first it made no sense to her, though she tried hard to know what it was she was touching. And then Teddy explained it to her as she guided her fingers over the fabric once more, and then she understood.
“Uncle Bryce said that you can’t see my freckles or my smile, but that you can see my red hair. So I’ve stitched a face, with eyes, nose, and mouth, and red hair. But this face is my face because it is covered in little knots of red thread. Those are my freckles. And if you trace your finger along the curve of these stitches here, you can feel my smile. See? I mean, can you feel them, Kate?”
When Kate nodded but did not speak, and neither did Christopher or Fran, Teddy wondered if there was something the matter with this gift. They were all staring at the pocket and her embroidery efforts as if there was something wrong with it, or it wasn’t what they expected, and no one was saying a word. She began to suspect it was a silly idea, even though her mother had assured her Kate would love it and think her gift very thoughtful. But now Teddy wasn’t so sure her mother was right. And when Kate clapped a hand to her mouth and her shoulders began to shake, Teddy was convinced stitching her portrait onto the pocket was the worst possible thing she could have done. That is until Christopher put an arm about her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her hair and said she was the cleverest girl he knew. And then Fran pulled her into a hug, tears in her eyes, saying she was a sweet, dear child who had made her ladyship very happy. Teddy was somewhat reassured by their praise, but it wasn’t until Kate had dried her eyes and given her cheek a kiss that she felt entirely reassured.
> “I shall treasure it always, my darling,” Kate told her with a watery smile. “And it will now be my favorite pocket of all. I think what I shall keep in it are your letters, and when Uncle Bryce reads them aloud I can feel you with me by tracing your smile and your-your freckles—”
“Yes, that’s what I thought too, because I’m off to Cheltenham to visit Granny very soon.” Teddy frowned and screwed up her nose. “I just wish I’d made two pockets with faces—”
“So I could wear one, too?” Christopher suggested eagerly, but with a perfectly neutral expression. He scooped up Kate’s gift and held the pocket to his hip, embroidered face out. “See, it suits me perfectly.”
This made Teddy give a start and then laugh out loud, and Christopher played to her laughter by twirling about and then bowing to her, pocket still held in place. Her giggling and his play-acting considerably lightened the mood in the room.
“What are you doing with Teddy’s gift, you naughty boy?” Kate demanded good-humouredly.
“Being silly!” Teddy told her. “Boys don’t wear pockets, Uncle Bryce. You know they don’t.”
“They certainly do not!” Kate agreed with a laugh.
“I could start a fashion—”
“Start a riot, more belike,” Kate muttered. “Now return my gift at once.”
Christopher handed the pocket to Teddy, who gave it to Kate, and asked, “Why two pockets, if one is not for me?”
“The other was for Mama, to cheer her up because Granny doesn’t want her at Cheltenham this year. Granny said as I’m now ten, it’s high time I visited her by myself, and that Mama is to stay away. And Granny wants me to come to her two weeks earlier than our usual time. I know Mama is not very happy to be left behind, but she did put a brave face on it all the same, and said how fortunate I was to have Granny all to myself this visit.”
“Then we shall have to see if we can accommodate Lady Strathsay’s wishes,” Christopher said, knowing Mary would do her best to hide her disappointment from her daughter, and wondering how he could delay Teddy’s visit without Mary incurring the Countess’s wrath. “Though I may not be able to spare the time to take you to Cheltenham early, as there is a meeting of the shareholders of the Stroudwater Navigation—”
“Oh, but you won’t be put out in the least, Uncle Bryce, because Granny is sending someone special to fetch me in a big carriage.”
“Someone special in a big carriage! Dear me, how your granny does spoil you, Teddy,” Kate cooed with heavy sarcasm that was lost on a ten-year-old, but which garnered a stifled smirk from Christopher, who knew Kate’s scathing opinion of the stiff-necked Countess of Strathsay.
But he was left wondering why Mary had not told him of her mother’s diktat. He knew a letter had arrived from the Countess two days ago—he had given it to Mary. Yet she had not said a word as to its surprising contents. Perhaps she did not know how best to tell him she would not be going to Cheltenham this year, and that he also would not be needed. After all, he had always escorted their carriage on horseback, to and from the spa town, parting ways once he saw the carriage safely to the Countess’s door. And yet now it seemed he, too, was being excluded by the Countess. Though if this was her stratagem, it was doomed to failure. He had every intention of accompanying this big unknown carriage and its occupants as far as the Countess’s rented townhouse; he would be failing in his duty as a guardian to do anything less.
Who this special someone could be, what constituted a “big carriage”, and when both were due to arrive at Abbeywood, Christopher, to his great surprise, was to have answers the very next day.
FOURTEEN
THERE WAS NOT one but two large traveling carriages in the forecourt of the stable yard at Abbeywood. Had it been anywhere else in the kingdom, the undersides and the wheels of both would have been splashed with enough mud to prove the general consensus that the roads in this part of England, if rutted tracks could be designated as such, were the worst in the kingdom. But it was not mud but lime that coated the carriages, from roads that were mostly deeply-rutted tracks that wound their way up the steep sides of hills, and then descended to valley floors in the same treacherous manner. It was a fair estimation that carriages, wagons, and even those on horseback had the slowest traveling times in England, too. It was as well the landscape was picturesque enough to provide diversion from an incommodious journey at any time of year and at every season, except perhaps when there was a downpour when neither rider, traveler, nor beast of burden could see five feet in front of their noses.
The carriages had been uncoupled, and the sticky lime was being quickly washed away, so as to prevent burns to the varnish. And as the luggage was off the roof, Christopher estimated the travelers had come in at dusk the night before. Which was just as well because it would have given them, their coachmen and outriders, and their horses the night to recover from the day before. Regardless of the distance since the last change of horses, be it five miles or ten, travel in the Cotswolds required a good deal of fortitude and forbearance.
These two qualities Christopher was having to draw on heavily, since receiving a note at first light that he was to present himself at Abbeywood after breakfast. Mr. Philip Audley, His Grace of Roxton’s secretary demanded his immediate presence. Luke had delivered the note, and by the pull to his mouth and the look in his eye, the young footman was unhappy with the upheaval caused by the arrival of titled city folk, not least the inconvenience to himself of having to share his room with one or more of the servants attached to these noble masters.
Christopher dismounted in the cobbled yard just outside the stables, and gave the reins to Luke, who silently led both horses through to the stalls. Everywhere there was activity. Stable boys and the visiting outriders were down to the business of feeding, watering, and grooming a stable full of horses, while the local farrier was making the rounds, checking horseshoes. Christopher found the farm’s head stableman in conversation with one of the visiting coachmen. The stableman assured the Squire everything and everyone was being well looked after; horses, outriders, and coachmen had places to sleep, and had been fed and watered. Christopher gave him permission to allocate the men three quarts of cider at suppertime, and to call in a couple of the village lads to lend a hand with mucking out the stables, cleaning the harnesses and tack, and readying the carriages for their onwards journey in—how many days?
The visiting coachman offered the information Christopher was seeking. His lordship was breaking his journey here at Abbeywood for a further two nights, and then continuing on to his final destination—the spa town of Cheltenham.
Christopher then spent a few minutes in conversation about the visitors’ journey through the vale, and then reluctantly headed indoors to the steward’s office. He hoped not to find Mr. Audley waiting him. That was wishful thinking. So was the thought the officious secretary had discovered an ounce of intelligent humility since his previous visit.
“YOU’VE FINALLY managed to join us, Mr. Bryce,” His Grace of Roxton’s secretary announced, stating the obvious with just that note of sour superiority in his tone to set Christopher’s teeth on edge.
Christopher glanced at Timothy Deed, who was seated at his usual place at the end of the desk, but such was the height of the pile of ledgers in front of him that he was only visible from the eyes up. But that was all that was needed for Christopher to witness the little man’s beetle brows lift and then contract inwards, giving expression to his thoughts, which split Christopher’s face into a grin. He wondered for how many hours Timothy had already endured the presence of the pompous Philip Audley.
“Is there something that has amused you that you wish to share with us?” Philip Audley asked with such excessive politeness it was meant as a put down.
“Not with you, Mr. Audley. How was your journey? Pleasant?”
The Squire’s uncharacteristic small talk puzzled the secretary, diverting him from his thoughts, which was Christopher’s object.
“What? My jou
rney? What about my journey?”
“With two carriages out in the yard, I may presume your backside was afforded the luxury of velvet upholstery…?”
“My-my—backside? I don’t under—”
Mr. Deed snorted into the ledgers.
“Your rump—”
“I know what a backside is!” The secretary shook himself, as if trying to rid a bad taste in the mouth. “I always forget how blunt you men of the provinces are. No doubt you do not think it the height of bad manners to mention particular parts of the anatomy in their most base form, but those of us who reside in more civilized counties and amongst more civilized persons—”
“Are you inferring the Lady Mary is uncivilized, Mr. Audley? And her ladyship the daughter of such a stickler for correct form as the Countess of Strathsay. For shame.”
“I was making no such disparaging claims about her ladyship!”
“Good. I don’t want you to even presume to know her. So you were saying about your backside…?”
Timothy Deed quickly clapped a hand to his mouth to suppress a second snort of laughter. But as Christopher kept a perfectly neutral expression the secretary assumed the Squire was merely being provincial, so said with a sniff, elevating his chin out of his linen stock,
“Naturally I was given a seat inside, in the first carriage, with his lordship and her ladyship. Which was right and proper for His Grace of Roxton’s representative.”
“What a high treat for the other occupants of the carriage to have your good self as a traveling companion. All the same, I prefer the saddle and fresh air. And the other representatives of his lordship and her ladyship…?” Christopher asked, knowing the secretary had a penchant for social irrelevancies that elevated his status above the ordinary. “They were relegated to the second carriage—naturally?”
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