The Frog Earl

by Carola Dunn

  “You are thinking of the one I threw in the mere. That horrid man broke my parasol,” she added, looking mournfully at the sad remains on the ground, “and I must have left my gloves by the pond. Oh dear, and my spencer is covered with mud and blood and dog hairs.”

  “Blood! Oh, from the dog,” he said in relief as she stooped to pick up the puppy cringing at her feet.

  “And my hem is filthy and I stepped in a puddle,” she continued the catalog of disaster, “but I'm very glad you came, all the same. Rohan is much heavier than he looks. I'd much rather not have to carry him home again.”

  “Simon, help Miss Lassiter up behind me,” suggested Gerald, his voice full of laughter. “You may have the honor of bearing her mongrel.”

  “Don't call him a mongrel, coz,” Simon advised, seeing Mimi's indignation as he lifted her onto the horse's back. “He's a canine of uncertain parentage.”

  “He's not! He's a foxhound. That's why I brought him to the Pells—I was sure he had run away. But they didn't want him so they threw stones at him to make him leave, and that odious man said he'd drown him this time!” She put one arm around Gerald's waist.

  Envying his cousin, fearful of what might have happened had they not ridden this way, Simon took the pup from the clasp of her other arm, handling the shivering little body gently. “We'll soon put you to rights, old fellow,” he assured him, then looked up at Mimi. She smiled. He was in favor with her again, but it had to be said: “Miss Lassiter, you ought not to have come here alone.”

  “I know,” she said guiltily. “I was in such a hurry to bring Rohan home to be healed that I didn't think about propriety.”

  “Propriety be damned! It's danger I'm talking about. What do you think that fellow was...”

  “Do climb down off your high ropes, coz,” Gerald interrupted, “and climb into the saddle, if you can manage it with—er—Rohan in your arms. The sooner we are on our way, the better.”

  Simon had to acknowledge the sense of this. Mimi was in no condition to come face-to-face with the Pells. Intrepid's good manners allowed him to mount with a minimum of awkwardness and they set out cross-country for Salters Hall.

  In view of Mimi's insecure seat, they rode slowly. Unsure if he was in her black books, Simon kept his mouth shut. She was silent too, whether burning with indignation toward him or consumed with guilt. The cawing of rooks in the elms sounded loud behind them.

  Gerald made no effort to break the silence until they left the squire's land, when he inquired, “I take it, Miss Lassiter, that your new pet is not named for the Prince de Rohan, the French cardinal?”

  “No, I've never heard of him. Who is he?”

  “Wasn't he the one who was involved in the Diamond Necklace scandal?” Simon asked. “Something to do with the French court shortly before the Revolution?”

  “Yes,” said Gerald shortly and repressively.

  Simon gathered that the affair was too unsavory to be discussed in the presence of a young lady. He could tell that a question was rising to Mimi's lips. “I wager Rohan is an Indian name,” he said quickly.

  “Hindi for sandalwood.” She giggled. “You see, when I found him he was rather smelly, so I told him he needed a bath with sandalwood essence.”

  “Believe me,” said Simon, “the name has done absolutely nothing to sweeten his smell.”

  Rohan's protesting yip at this slander snapped the last thread of tension, and suddenly they were all laughing uproariously.

  Chapter 18

  “Jacko will look after Rohan while we're at the Daumiers', Papa,” said Mimi persuasively.

  “And while we're inside Highbury Manor,” her father commanded. “He's not house-trained yet.”

  “He's only a baby. He's going to be excessively handsome when he has put on a bit more weight, is he not?”

  “Excessively.” The colonel scratched the head of the little dog in his daughter's arms. Rohan wriggled with joy, his tail beating against Mimi's side. “All right, you may bring him. I hope he's carriage-trained at least.”

  “We can stop halfway and I'll walk him a bit. Harriet and Mr. Cooper won't mind.”

  “The carriage is at the door, sir,” announced Waring.

  As he handed Mimi into the carriage, Colonel Lassiter said firmly, “Now none of your tricks today, missy. Lord Daumier has approved my turning the manor into an orphanage, but everything will go much smoother if we're on friendly terms with him and his lady. They're the biggest landowners in the parish of Highbury, and they could make things very awkward if you set up their backs.”

  “Tricks, Papa?” Mimi looked up at him wide-eyed as she smoothed her skirts and settled Rohan on the soft leather seat beside her.

  “Naughty puss,” he chuckled, patting her cheek and sitting down opposite her. “Promise me.”

  “No tricks, Papa. I shall keep on my gloves and my hat and not talk about tadpoles or Indian gods.”

  “And you won't cut the Pells?”

  “Oh dear, are they going too? It will be difficult to be polite after what they let that man do to Rohan, but I promise to try.”

  “Good enough, my love. There is, thank heaven, no lake for you to fall in. Stay away from the stream.”

  It was a sunny, windy morning. Rohan pressed his nose to the window for a few minutes, but his breath steamed it up so he gave up trying to see out. He fell asleep with his head on Mimi's lap, only to awaken the moment the carriage stopped outside the vicarage.

  Jacko jumped down from the back and ran up the path between beds of scarlet geraniums to knock on the door. The vicar and Harriet came straight out and joined the Lassiters in the carriage. Having already met Harriet, Rohan greeted her with boundless enthusiasm. Mr. Cooper was a stranger, however, and therefore worthy of suspicion. As the carriage rolled through the village, its course was punctuated by short, sharp, questioning barks.

  “You ought to know better than to mistrust a clergyman,” the vicar told him with mock severity. “Well, Colonel, who is to join us this morning, besides Lord and Lady Daumier?”

  “Lady Thompson, of course. I don't know if Lord Litton or Mr. Hurst will come.”

  “My daughter tells me Lord Litton has expressed an interest in the orphanage, so I daresay he will be there.”

  Mimi noted Harriet's blush and squeezed her hand. “I wonder why a Pink of the Ton should be interested in an orphanage?” she whispered slyly. “For the same reason he came back to Cheshire so unexpectedly?”

  “Pell said he'd come by to look the place over,” her father continued, “and the Marburys...”

  “The Marburys?” said the vicar in surprise. “I had not thought any of them seriously interested.”

  “It's my belief they are only interested in meeting with the Daumiers,” the colonel said cynically. “An invitation to take luncheon with them is not to be missed. Lloyd will be there, as vicar of Highbury, and Blake should be there to meet us with the keys. He handled the conveyancing, as you know. That's all, I think.”

  “A goodly crowd, yet few enough for that vast house. There has not been even a caretaker there these many years. We had best walk with caution.”

  “The structure is sound enough in the newer parts, Vicar, but you are right. I'll warn everyone to be careful, especially in the old wing that was the original house.”

  “Why has the manor been abandoned for so long, Papa?” Mimi asked.

  “The last owner—or rather resident owner—had only one child, a daughter, who married a colonist and went to America. When he died she couldn't be found, I gather. It was only when she, in turn, died that her son found mention of Highbury Manor among her papers. He contacted an English lawyer and discovered that he now owned the place, which is of no use to him whatsoever. It's because he's in America that it's taken so long to close the purchase.”

  After a brief stop for Rohan's sake, they reached Highbury shortly before noon. The manor was visible from a distance across unkempt parkland, a huge, rambling place with sections i
n every style from early Tudor to modern Palladian.

  “It's perfect for an orphanage,” Mimi said as they drove up the avenue of chestnuts. “There's space enough for dozens of children. What's that turret on the roof, Papa?”

  “Blake said it's a banqueting room, though it hardly looks big enough to hold a banquet in.”

  “In Tudor times, and well into the seventeenth century,” the vicar explained, “a banquet could be a grand feast or a light refreshment for a few friends. The Elizabethans often built small, elaborate buildings for the latter purpose in the gardens, but the roof was also a popular location. I see you have gardeners at work already, Colonel.”

  “Yes, the gardens are so impenetrable it's impossible even to see what needs to be done. When they've been cleared a bit, I shall want Mrs. Cooper's advice. She, if anyone, must know how to create a garden that won't be ruined by children's games.”

  “Sir,” said Harriet shyly, “I believe I can tell you what Mama would advise.”

  The colonel smiled at her. “Tell me.”

  “If you allow the children to help in the garden, let them plant things, and pick the flowers and vegetables, then they will be careful not to spoil it because they will feel it belongs to them.”

  The vicar nodded approvingly, and the colonel said, “An excellent point, Miss Harriet. I can see your opinion is going to be valuable and I hope you won't stint to express it. Well, here we are. Blake is before us, it seems.”

  The front door of the manor, beneath an impressive portico sadly in need of paint, stood open. They found the lawyer and Mr. Lloyd within, and the Marburys and Squire Pell arrived not long after. Next came Lord and Lady Daumier, a distinguished middle-aged couple dressed with a quiet elegance greatly at odds with the frills and furbelows of the fawning Marburys.

  “Lady Daumier makes Lady Marbury look like an opera dancer,” Mimi whispered to Harriet.

  “Oh, Mimi, how do you know what an opera dancer looks like?” asked Harriet, whose sailor-brother Ferdie had enlightened her on the subject of Fashionable Impures.

  “We went to the Royal Opera House when we were in London, before we came here,” her friend explained innocently. “The dancers wore excessively ornate costumes. Lady Daumier's dress is much simpler, but it looks much smarter, does it not?”

  “Much. If I were rich, I should endeavor to copy her style. Listen, do you hear another carriage?”

  “It must be Lady Thompson. Let's go and see if Simon and Gerald are with her.”

  “Oh no, we ought not...,” Harriet chuckled, “... but as hostess you might go out to welcome her.”

  With a most unladylike snort, Mimi caught her arm and pulled her out to the portico.

  Lady Thompson was accompanied by both her young relatives, Gerald in the carriage with her, Simon riding alongside.

  “Come in,” Mimi invited gaily. “Lord and Lady Daumier are here already, everyone's here, and Papa is ready to conduct a tour.” She ushered Lady Thompson into the dingy marble hall.

  Following, Harriet noticed that Lord Litton appeared amused. He murmured something in Simon's ear that brought a look of alarm to Simon's face. Then they were inside, in the now crowded hall, in a confusion of greetings.

  Lady Thompson, a longtime neighbor, knew the Daumiers well if not intimately, and Gerald was acquainted with them from London Society. Harriet was surprised when Simon was not presented to them. She looked around for him but forgot all about him when Gerald joined her.

  “The colonel wishes every lady to have an escort,” he said. “He has offered my aunt his arm, so may I have the pleasure of offering you mine?”

  Speechless with pleasure, Harriet laid her hand in the crook of his arm and they followed Colonel Lassiter and his motley crowd of advisers.

  The house was, as Squire Pell loudly and repeatedly described it, “a demmed rabbit warren.” Inside as out, no effort had been made to merge the various additions into a harmonious whole. Doors in odd places led from fancifully baroque drawing rooms into plain, wainscoted Jacobean parlors.

  “The first thing I'll do,” said the colonel, “is put in proper connecting passageways.”

  “Oh no,” Harriet said, involuntarily but softly.

  “No?” Gerald smiled down at her, his eyebrows raised.

  “I like it the way it is. You never know what you will come upon next. But more important, I think the children will be happier in small groups, more like a proper family, than all thrown together in an indistinguishable mass. If there are few connections between the parts of the house, each will be more like a home.”

  “You are undoubtedly right. Tell the colonel.”

  “I could not! Later, when there are not so many people.”

  “They will not bite you, you know. And if you leave it till later, Colonel Lassiter will have started to build plans on a faulty foundation. Courage, Miss Harriet.” Covering her hand with his, he raised his voice. “Colonel, this young lady has a suggestion to make.”

  Everyone stopped and turned and looked at her. Harriet was ready to sink—or would have been without the encouragement of Gerald's hand gently pressing hers.

  “Good,” said the colonel. “Miss Cooper has already made one valuable suggestion.”

  So she told them her ideas, which were greeted with thoughtful murmurs and nods of approval. The tour continued.

  “You see?” said Gerald. “That was not so dreadful, was it? Shakespeare wrote something about the foolishness of hiding one's light under a bushel. Or is it in the Bible?”

  “In the Bible.”

  “Is it not amazing how most quotations, and a great many common sayings, are in the Bible or from Shakespeare?”

  Her composure restored, Harriet agreed with a smile. They followed the others into a long Elizabethan gallery with windows on one side overlooking the gardens. The opposite wall was hung with portraits so cobwebbed they might all have been of the same person. The portraits should be cleaned and kept, Harriet told Gerald, so that the children could pretend they were of their own ancestors.

  “I shall tell the colonel later,” she said firmly. “It cannot make any difference to...”

  “Colonel, sir!” A panting youth in soil-stained clothes rushed into the gallery, clutching a pair of shears. “Sir, I bin sent to tell 'ee there's a female on the roof!”

  Harriet was not in the least surprised to discover that Mimi was missing.

  * * * *

  As they followed Mimi and Aunt Georgina into the hall of Highbury Manor, Gerald had murmured in Simon's ear, “I was not aware that the Daumiers were to be here. You met them once in town, and your father was closely associated with Lord Daumier two or three years ago in sponsoring some bill in the Lords.”

  Simon shuddered and hung back. The last thing he wanted was to be exposed before the entire neighborhood. He was ready to flee but Mimi, having handed his aunt over to the colonel, came up to him.

  “Papa means to show everyone the whole musty old house, but I doubt they will get so far as the banqueting room, right at the top, that I want to see. Papa says every lady must have a gentleman's escort. Will you come with me?”

  “Certainly. Let's escape at once before we're trapped.”

  They hurried up the nearest stairs, then headed in the direction of the older part of the manor. The rooms they glanced into, dimly lit by curtained windows, were all full of the lurking shapes of furniture in dusty holland covers. Their footsteps, muffled by dust, were the only sound until a floorboard creaked loudly as they passed. Mimi grabbed Simon's hand and hung on.

  Proceeding ever upward, they found at last a winding stair that looked promising. At the top a small door in a turret opened directly onto a flat area of roof, enclosed by a stone parapet.

  “There it is,” Mimi said with great satisfaction and started eagerly toward a belvedere some thirty feet off.

  “Wait. We don't know what condition the leads are in. Let me go first.”

  “Leads?”

  �
�That's what a roof walk is called, I suppose because the roof is made of lead.” Simon repressed the temptation to tell her of the forays he and Gerald had made onto the roofs of his Hampshire home, the historic battles refought among chimney pots and gables. Cedric had considered them childish. What had made Cedric take the wrong turning that had led to his death in a tavern brawl?

  Dismissing the question, he went cautiously forward across the roof, holding Mimi's hand to stop her from moving ahead. The gusty wind was strong up here, buffeting them playfully, but the roof seemed sound. They reached the banqueting room without any difficulty.

  The turret was no more than a dozen feet square, with a pillar in each corner, arched windows, and a domed roof. The door, in the side nearest to them, was locked with a huge, ornate, rusty but still sound iron lock.

  “Botheration!” said Mimi. “I wanted to see the view.”

  “You can see it even better from out here,” Simon pointed out, laughing. “Those windows are filthy. Look, if we climb that slope, the chimney stack will shelter us from the wind. Let's sit down there and you can admire the view to your heart's content.”

  He helped her up the pitched roof and they sat with their backs to the sun-warmed brick. The rich green fields of Cheshire, dotted with cows, stretched before them, merging into the hills of Derbyshire and Staffordshire.

  “It's so very different from Bharadupatam. Most of the time, when you looked out from the highest tower in my grandfather's palace everything was brown as far as you could see. Even the trees were dust-brown except in the monsoons. England is very beautiful.” She sighed.

  “You have found it difficult to adjust to English life, I think,” he said gently. “I can guess a little of what you have gone through, for the change from the freedom of the seas to the constrictions of a landlubber has not been easy for me.”

  “For me it's been the other way about. Oh, when I was a child I used to go everywhere with Papa, to the villages and bazaars and temples and barracks. But when I was eleven my grandfather insisted that I must go into purdah. You know what that is? A woman must never be seen by a strange man, so you live behind curtains and behind walls. If I went out, it was in a palanquin with more curtains, and stifling veils to hide my face in case the curtains blew open. I hardly ever saw Papa anymore because if he came to visit me everyone else had to hide.”