“My dear cousin!” Peter hardly knew whether to be intrigued or appalled at the thought of so primitive an existence. “Life at Ramsay Hall must seem like the stuff of fairy tales.”
Susannah’s brow puckered as she considered this observation. “In some ways, yes, I suppose it does. Although it never before occurred to me how very uncomfortable it must have been for Cinderella. How did she ever learn to dance at that ball anyway, when her stepmother made her work all the time?”
“Very true! I confess, I never thought of that. Perhaps the glass slippers did the dancing for her.”
She shook her head. “No, for surely the fairy godmother must have mentioned it, if that had been the case.”
“Well then, I suppose her father must have engaged a dancing master for her at some time before his death—a very wise investment, obviously.”
She snatched her hand from his arm and stepped back. “You are saying it was very unwise of Papa not to do so for me!”
“I said no such thing!” Peter protested hastily, although privately his thoughts had been running along very similar lines. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that Mr. Gerald Ramsay had been shockingly neglectful of his daughter’s upbringing—except where her skill on horseback was concerned and this, by her own admission, was more out of necessity than any desire to render her a suitable bride for a gentleman of property. Peter found himself wondering what might have become of her had not Richard decided to offer for her.
“Papa was not always so—so hermitlike,” Susannah said, apparently feeling some defense of her father was called for. “He and Mama used to spend part of every year in Richmond—Mama was quite the Virginia belle, if her portrait does not lie—but after she died, he closed up the town house and took me to Kentucky. We have lived there ever since. The town house was pointed out to me when I went to Richmond to visit Papa’s solicitor, but I haven’t been inside it since I was two years old, so I don’t remember anything about it. It is tall and narrow, with a red brick façade and white columns on the portico, and black shutters on all the windows.”
“It sounds very handsome,” Peter said, and was surprised to discover that he meant it.
“Oh, it is, at least from the outside. But it has been closed up for more than fifteen years, so I daresay the inside needs a good airing, and very possibly more.”
“If it has been standing vacant all this time, I should think it very likely. It appears Richard may need to engage an agent to oversee the American property.”
The mention of her fiancé was sufficient to erase the animation from her face. “There is to be a ball to announce the betrothal, you know,” she said, her voice expressionless.
“Ah,” Peter said cryptically, understanding the reason for her sudden concern as to how Cinderella acquired her dancing skills.
“Cousin Jane says she will teach me to dance—she and Aunt Amelia and Cousin Richard.”
“If she says she will teach you, then you may count on her to do so,” he assured her. “Depend upon it, she will not throw you to the wolves all unprepared. And as she is a very graceful dancer herself, you may be sure you are in good hands as far as your instructress is concerned.”
She raised wide, troubled eyes to his. “Yes, but—but what if I’m not—what if I can’t—”
He took both of her hands in his and gave them a comforting little squeeze. “If I can learn to dance, anyone can. Like you, I had not the advantage of a dancing master either. It was not until after I came here to work for Richard that the Aunts informed me I might be expected to fill in socially on occasions when an extra male was needed, and that it was my duty as a Ramsay not to disgrace myself or my name—and to tell you the truth, I suspect it was the latter that weighed most heavily with them. Between the pair of them, they took me in hand—along with assistance from Cousin Jane and Richard—and today I can at least contrive to get through a quadrille or a cotillion without treading on a lady’s toes.”
“I suppose it’s different for men,” protested Susannah, unconvinced.
“Yes, for we are expected to lead,” he pointed out. “Uncomfortable though it may be, your position is more to be envied than mine was.” Of course, there was the small matter that she, as Lord Ramsay’s affianced bride, would be the cynosure of all eyes, while he would be merely an extra male whose duty it was to see that the less desirable of the young ladies were not allowed to languish against the wall. He hoped this circumstance would not occur to her, at least not until she had achieved some degree of proficiency in the dance.
“Then you truly don’t think I will have any difficulty in learning?” she asked, her expressive blue eyes pleading for confirmation.
“Truly, Cousin Susannah, I don’t. Anyone who can handle a four-legged creature as well as you handled Daffodil should have no trouble at all with only your own two to manage.”
She gave him an uncertain little smile, and he was gratified to know that, even if he had not been able to convince her entirely, at least he had relieved the worst of her fears.
“Will you help with the dancing lessons, Peter?” Receiving no answer, she was obliged to prompt him. “Peter?”
They had followed the stream as it traced a wide arc around the foot of the hill. Upon rounding the curve, Peter’s steps had slowed and finally ceased altogether, and he stood staring off into the distance at a mossy, slate-tiled roof rising over the treetops.
“Peter?” she said again. “What is it?”
“Fairacres,” he said, pointing toward the distant roof. “The estate borders Richard’s, and the house dates to the sixteenth century. You should see it from the front: mullioned windows with diamond-shaped panes, exposed timbers on the upper floors, and a great front door so wide that four men could pass through it walking abreast. They say that Queen Elizabeth once visited, and that the first Lord Ramsay was ennobled for allowing the queen and her retinue to hunt in his woods, after the royal party had denuded the Fairacres park of deer. And it is true that the barony dates back to that time, so there may be some truth to the story.”
Susannah stood on tiptoe for a better look, but could see nothing but the roof cresting the tops of the trees. “Who lives there?”
Peter sighed. “No one, now. I’d like to buy the place someday and restore the house before it falls down. It would be an expensive undertaking, but the land is fertile enough that I think it could bear the cost—so long as the estate was not obliged to entertain any more royal guests,” he added with a grin.
“You aren’t happy working for Cousin Richard?”
“I have no complaints about Richard as an employer—far from it, in fact, for he is more than generous. But I would like to have a place of my own someday. I have ideas I should like to try, ideas about farming and animal husbandry.”
“And you don’t think Richard would allow it?”
He shook his head. “On the contrary, I am almost certain he would. Therein lies the problem. If I should be wrong, if my plans should fail—” He shrugged. “I should prefer to risk my own money, rather than Richard’s.”
“Then I think you should buy Fairacres,” she pronounced with a decisive nod.
“Oh, so do I. There is only one little problem.”
“What is that?”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I haven’t the money. Richard pays me well, so far as stewards go, but not that well. My needs are small, though, so I set aside what I can out of each quarter’s pay.” He sighed. “At my current rate of savings, I ought to have enough put back in, oh, another thirty years.”
“But that is dreadful!” she exclaimed in ready sympathy. “Is there nothing else you can do?”
“I suppose I might marry an heiress, but even assuming a likely female should wander into rural Hampshire, it is doubtful she would be interested in a potential husband with nothing to recommend him but an old County name and a distant connection to the current baron.”
“Nonsense!” Susannah’s bosom swelled in indignation
. “I am an heiress, and not only have I wandered into Hampshire but I also think you would make a very nice husband.”
So touched was Peter by her emphatic defense of his prospects that he ignored her garbled syntax. “I am flattered beyond words by your high opinion of me, Cousin Susannah, but since you are already promised to Richard, I can only hope to find an unattached heiress who shares it. And now, if you are ready, I think we should turn back before Sheba and Daffodil give us up for lost.”
* * *
“She what?” demanded Richard several hours later, when the story of Susannah’s adventures had been recounted to him by Jane, who had had the story from Peter.
“Really, Richard, she is the most unusual girl!” exclaimed Jane, choking back a laugh. “You must admit, she is nothing if not resourceful.”
“I must admit nothing of the sort!” he growled, pacing the Aubusson carpet adorning the drawing room floor. “When I consider that your kindness to her is rewarded so shabbily—”
“Nonsense! I daresay it is my own fault, for neglecting to explain to her that a lady’s riding garments are not made by a dressmaker, but by a tailor. In hindsight, I quite see that she could not have been expected to know such a thing.”
“Why not?” challenged Richard. “You did.”
“Only because your mother took it upon herself to provide for me, and was kind enough not to make a great to-do about my deficiencies, which I can assure you were many.” Seeing by the slowing of his steps that he was beginning to weaken, she added, “It is not as if the dress is ruined, you know. The fabric is not torn at all, only the stitching ripped out. It can be repaired, and no one will ever be the wiser.”
“I will,” he grumbled. “Besides, that dress looked better on you,”
“Yes, well, you must remember that it was made for me,” she pointed out, willing herself not to set too much store by this very flattering remark which was in fact no compliment at all, but a simple statement of opinion. “Come, Richard, it is my dress, after all, and if I can see the humour in the situation, surely there is no need for you to take offense.”
He sighed. “I suppose you are right, and I will not mention the matter to her, if that is what you wish. It is only that she has so much, and you have so little.”
“Little?” she echoed incredulously. “Little, I? My dear Richard, surely you jest! Why, I have an entire wardrobe of lovely gowns; surely I cannot begrudge her one, whatever she may choose to do to it. Besides that, I have a very comfortable home, and a family who cares for me, and—oh, a hundred other things beside. I would not trade places with Susannah for anything!”
“Yes, I know,” Richard acknowledged with a rueful smile. “Your opinion on the subject, as I recall, was quite emphatically stated.”
They had not spoken of his rejected offer of marriage from that day to this, and Jane, to her chagrin, felt her cheeks burning as if that most awkward of events had taken place only the day before, instead of almost a decade earlier. Her fingers worked in agitation, pleating the folds of her muslin skirts, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, and to smile.
“You should be very thankful that I answered you as I did, else you would not have been free to offer for Susannah.”
“No,” he said, his expression curiously unreadable. “No, I wouldn’t have, would I?”
Chapter 10
Every savage can dance.
JANE AUSTEN, Pride and Prejudice
The following afternoon had been set aside for Susannah’s first instructions in dancing. Aunt Amelia was appointed to play the pianoforte, thus freeing Jane to demonstrate the steps Susannah was to imitate. As soon as the Aunts arrived from the dower house, they and the four “young people,” as Amelia and Charlotte dubbed their junior relations (including the thirty-one-year-old head of the family), repaired to the music room. While Aunt Amelia took her place at the instrument and Aunt Charlotte settled herself in a chair along the wall to observe the proceedings, the dancers paired themselves off. Susannah was partnered with Lord Ramsay, since everyone present at the ball would expect to see the betrothed pair lead out the dancing. This left Jane with Peter, to whom she had given very similar lessons only two years earlier.
They began with the minuet. Although quite outmoded in London, and performed nowadays only in places where the elderly were wont to congregate, such as Bath or Tunbridge Wells, this antiquated dance possessed the advantage of being easy to learn and, consequently, of giving Jane the opportunity to assess her pupil’s skills before moving on to the more fashionable—and complicated—cotillion, quadrille, and, of course, the waltz.
For her part, Susannah found that after the initial awkwardness, she enjoyed the lessons very much. Although she hadn’t the advantage of the musical training that was—or at least should have been—part of every gently bred lady’s education, she possessed an innate sense of rhythm, and her proficiency in the saddle had imbued her with a natural grace and fluidity of movement.
From the minuet, they progressed to the Sir Roger de Coverley, and Jane noted with considerable frustration that the lively and popular reel could not be done correctly with only two couples.
“Perhaps we could hold an informal little morning dance a week before the ball,” she suggested. “I believe the vicar’s eldest daughter is to go to London next spring for her aunt to bring her out in Society; I daresay she would welcome the opportunity to practice, and other young people in the neighborhood would very likely do so as well.”
As daunting as Susannah found the prospect of displaying her newly acquired skills before a roomful of strangers her own age, she found the prospect of doing so at a formal ball in front of a glittering assembly of aristocratic strangers infinitely worse. She agreed somewhat tentatively to this program for her education, and the lessons resumed. At the end of an hour of instruction, they had covered the steps for the minuet, the Sir Roger de Coverley, the cotillion, and the quadrille (these last two with an entirely imaginary third and fourth couple, which strengthened Jane’s conviction that an informal dance before the betrothal ball was necessary, if Susannah were to comport herself with confidence). Jane then exchanged a word with Aunt Amelia and, while that lady rifled through her music, announced her intention of instructing Susannah in the waltz.
For all her ignorance, Susannah was familiar with this shocking German dance, as her missionary escort aboard the Concordia had been quite vocal on the subject. “Are you sure I should, Cousin Jane?” she asked, rather taken aback by her elegant English cousin’s determination to set her feet on the path of iniquity. “I thought—that is, I was given to understand that the waltz is not at all the thing.”
“Oh, that was the case years ago, but now it is danced everywhere,” Jane assured her. “Indeed, it would be thought very odd if we did not include at least one waltz, and very probably more. But pray learn the steps first, and then you may decide for yourself. It is quite simple, you know. You have only to count to three.”
Jane turned to her partner to demonstrate, and Susannah, suppressing her misgivings, allowed Richard to place his right hand at her waist and take her right hand in his left. With some hesitation, she followed Jane’s example and put her free hand upon her partner’s shoulder, an act which brought them into such close contact that, if she crossed her eyes, she might study in minute detail the starched folds of his cravat.
Having grown up in the midst of a thriving horse-breeding enterprise, Susannah was familiar enough with the habits of animals to have a general idea of the conjugal act between men and women. It stood to reason, then, that this approximation of an embrace in the arms of the very man with whom she would soon be engaging in so intimate an act should set her senses all a-twitter, but instead she felt . . . nothing. This dis-covery should have been a relief, but in fact, Susannah found it vaguely disappointing. Her future husband’s hand gripping hers was simply a hand; his other hand at her waist was no more than a slight pressure felt through the boned fabric of her stays.
/> She could not understand it; one glance at Peter and Jane in a similar hold was enough to inform her that it should have been a gross impertinence. Indeed, the sight of Peter’s arm about Jane’s waist was so unsettling that she lost her step, causing Richard to bump into her.
“No, no,” Jane said, stepping out of Peter’s hold. “You must relax, Susannah, and allow Richard to lead you. Here, Richard, let us show her. Aunt Amelia, will you begin again from the fifth measure?”
The elderly lady nodded. “Of course, Jane dear. Richard, are you ready? One, two, three, one, two, three—”
As Aunt Amelia’s fingers came down on the keys, Richard took Jane in his arms and steered her in time to the music, the pair of them turning in a clockwise direction as they glided about the room.
“Oh!” Susannah breathed. “Why, it isn’t wicked at all, is it? How very elegant they look!”
Peter, standing beside her, agreed. “They are very well matched, are they not?”
“They are. In fact,” she added, as a new thought occurred to her, “I wonder why Richard has not married Jane.”
“I confess, I have wondered that myself. They are so very compatible that I should have thought they would be well suited. But there has never been anything like that between them, so far as I know.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they see no reason to spoil a perfectly good friendship with wedding vows.”
“But why must one choose? Can husbands and wives not be friends as well?”
Peter shook his head. “I fear you are asking the wrong person. While I flatter myself that I have many friends, I have never had a wife, and so can offer no opinion on the subject.”
As the demonstration came to an end, Susannah hoped she might be given a chance to try the waltz with Peter as her partner. It was very odd, but she felt much more comfortable with him than she did with the man who was soon to be her husband; she supposed it was because Peter was a mere “mister,” just like men in America, instead of a lord. But no, as the final chord faded, Richard bowed very formally and Jane curtsied in like manner, and then both of them returned to their original partners. Stifling a pang of disappointment, Susannah allowed Richard to take her in the now familiar hold, and if she failed to match Jane’s elegance of movement, at least she contrived to get through the dance without stumbling.
Baroness in Buckskin Page 9