by Joan Vincent
Longeton kissed it lightly and after a momentary pause released it. Picking up a plate, he said, “Please be seated, Miss Thait. It will give me pleasure to make your choices for you.”
Baron Buckley motioned Thomasina towards him. She threw his lordship an angry frown, went to the Baron, and let him seat her.
“Relax, Tommi,” her uncle whispered. “It is time you learned how one conducts oneself in society. His lordship is merely being civil.”
Thomasina directed her eyes to her lap, realizing her uncle must have completely forgotten Longeton’s disastrous association with her father and its resultant cause of her mother’s death.
The Marquess’ light, mannish cologne penetrated her senses; she felt the brush of his arm against her shoulder as he served her plate with a slight flourish.
“I hope my choices will prove satisfactory,” he said pleasantly.
“You could not have done better,” the Baron’s voice boomed into Thomasina’s consciousness. “Exactly the selection she would have made.”
Forcefully focusing her attention on the filled plate, she realized the truth of her uncle’s words, but it only served to make her view the generous servings as an insult, and her anger increased.
“She does not have the look of one who is a finicky eater,” Longeton commented matter-of-factly.
“No, no,” laughed the Baron. “And well she does not, with that rascally son of mine she must deal with.” He paused.
“What is wrong?” he asked Thomasina, seeing that she had not raised a fork to any of her food.
“I ... I do not have much appetite this morn, Uncle,” she choked out.
“Nonsense. More than likely suffering from embarrassment,” the Baron told the Marquess. “Usually she eats as heartily as I, although—” he winked broadly, “—it has suited her frame more appropriately than mine.”
Thomasina felt her face burning. Keeping her eyes lowered, she managed to swallow a few bites.
“The Baron tells me that you are acting as governess to his son, Miss Thait. Do you find the task enjoyable as well as fulfilling?” Longeton asked as he cut his beef, seeking to ease the embarrassment the Baron’s words were causing her.
Misunderstanding his intent, Thomasina flashed a look of utter outrage and hatred across the table at him.
Raising his eyes as he slowly chewed his beef, Longeton choked as he encountered the intenseness of her disfavour.
Baron Buckley rose and thumped him soundly on the back as he coughed. Thomasina took advantage of the instance to disappear from the room.
“I am quite recovered,” Longeton insisted loudly as the Baron continued his pounding.
“Ah, good,” said the Baron, returning to his chair. “You gave me quite a fright, you know. Dangerous business, choking on meat. Had a friend who died doing that. Dangerous business.”
“I heartily agree,” returned Longeton as he arched his aching back. For all the Baron’s flab, his arms still held their strength.
“Well now, where could Tommi have gone to? And her plate practically untouched. Deuced odd, that. I suppose she was unsettled by your company—we usually breakfast alone, she and I. Fine girl she is.
“I was wondering if you could help to— Well, I dare say that’s best left unsaid for now,” the Baron clacked on at his usual pace.
“What were we speaking of? Ah, yes, the kidney—excellent work our cook makes of it—don’t you agree? But then, everyone to his own ‘snuff’ as it were. Let us make done with this, and I will take you to the stables so you can make your choice of mounts for this afternoon, unless you prefer your own.
“I have sent a message to Lord Sherrad. He may not be able to ride—gout, you know—but his sons will come. Fine boys they are—only a few years younger than yourself, I believe. The oldest must be all of five or six and twenty. Yes, fine lads, I have known them since their births...”
* * * *
Thomasina did not stop running until she was in the refuge of her own room. Closing the door firmly behind her, she leaned against it heavily.
What am I to do? she thought wildly. What game is he making of this? With tightly clasped hands, she paced the small open center of her room. Slowly, calm reasserted itself as she reasoned through the dilemma.
Longeton was not surprised at her appearance, she thought, so somehow he had learned of her presence here. He has not told Uncle, that is certain. What can he mean to do? Toy with me as a mouser does its prey?
Yes, that would be the kind of foul play to expect from his sort. Well, he would find that this mouse had her own claws.
Going to the miserly-looking glass provided solely so that the governess would have no excuse for being anything but neat, she viewed her reflection. Beyond her own features a vague image of his lordship appeared and she stuck out her tongue, driving it from her mind’s eye.
“Brutus,” she said aloud, “mythical first king of Britain. ‘Belial,’ worthless and wicked, would suit you better, my Lord Longeton.
“‘She does not have the look of one who is a finicky eater,’” Thomasina mimicked exaggeratedly and made another face in honour of his lordship.
A tapping at her door caused her to start guiltily. “Yes?” she answered, momentarily fearful her uncle was summoning her return to the breakfast room.
“Lady Buckley says you’re to come to her sitting room at once,” an undermaid called through the door. “Her ladyship says for the nanny to look after Master Parker while you do.”
“Tell her I am coming,” Thomasina answered, opening the door. “I will just check on my charge.”
“You’d best hurry, miss. Her ladyship is ... well ...”
“Thank you, I will,” Thomasina smiled at the girl.
She could easily see how her aunt could intimidate a girl so fresh from an estate cottage. “Do not fear—I will be there shortly.”
The young undermaid showed a meek smile of appreciation as she bobbed a curtsy and turned to go.
Thomasina closed the door and crossed the room, entering the schoolroom by a second connecting door. Parker was seated at the schoolroom table just finishing his breakfast.
“Good morn, Tommi,” he said, greeting her with a gruel-covered smile.
“Good morn to you, Parker,” Thomasina returned, and see it remains a good morn for all. Good morn, Nanny,” she added to the old woman who had stood as she entered.
“Good morn, Miss Thomasina,” the wizened woman answered with a bob.
“Lady Augusta seeks my presence this morn,” Thomasina said in explanation. “Parker may play about the room until I return.” She turned to him. “Behave yourself,” she cautioned the boy.
“I shan’t be long, Nanny.”
“Don’t you be lettin’ her frighten you, miss,” the old woman said, shaking her head.
“It is probably just a matter of Master Parker’s lessons,” Thomasina answered, heartened by the woman’s concern. She acknowledged the curtsy the old woman always insisted upon giving her and wondered what her aunt would say if she knew how Nanny sometimes carried on. The thought of it took her smilingly through the halls until she came to the door of Lady Augusta’s sitting room.
The door opened just as she raised her hand to knock, and she had to step aside quickly to avoid being bumped into by Dianna.
“It’s about time you came,” her cousin snapped, imitating Lady Buckley’s abusive style.
“Dianna, enough. Do as I have told you,” ordered Lady Augusta’s voice.
“Enter, Thomasina.”
Appearing before her aunt always called to mind a description her mother had oft told her of a governess her mother had had to endure as a young girl at Buckley House.
“She looked like she ate lemons at every meal,” her mother had said. “Sour and dour as ever a woman was made. Thin as a barren spindle and just as unattractive, but what power she had to make one feel smaller than the tiniest insect—and just as useful.”
“Thomasina, your handli
ng of Parker must be firmer in the future, especially during Lord Longeton’s stay. He is here to offer for Dianna’s hand, and that is of as great an import to your future as to Dianna and all of us,” Lady Augusta said with self-confirmed assurance.
“But what can you mean, my lady?” Thomasina asked, becoming suspicious.
“Dianna will need a companion after her marriage and of course, a governess as time passes,” the Baroness stated, certain of Thomasina’s gratitude. “The benefits of such a position in the Marquess of Thornhill’s house should be clear, even to one of your upbringing.”
Thomasina dug her nails into her palms. Horror at being trapped into a lifetime of service to Dianna and the Marquess overcame her urge to respond to her aunt’s last words.
“You are not to take Parker out—not for a walk nor for your usual ride. Restrict yourselves to the schoolroom and the other rooms of that floor until I give further word.”
“But, Aunt—” began Thomasina.
“I will not tell you again, you impertinent child.” Lady Augusta’s voice rose even higher in anger. “You are not to be so informal in your address of my person and one in your position learns to hold her tongue.”
“I am sorry, your ladyship,” Thomasina, forced out. “It is just that Parker will become dreadfully restless if ...”
“You will see that he does not,” Lady Augusta said in dismissal.
Sighing inwardly, Thomasina curtsied and withdrew. She would have to find a way to deal with Parker’s energy indoors—a task that had proven hopeless in the months already spent at Buckley House.
I must not ask for too much, she told herself. It is clear my aunt will prevent his lordship from even meeting me. As for Parker, well ... the assurance of no further contact with “Lord Brutus” would have to suffice for this day’s blessings.
Thomasina suddenly realized that this last thought saddened her and, giving herself a vigorous shake, she attacked the problem of how to deal with Parker.
Chapter Five
“Dianna, show his lordship the rose garden,” Lady Augusta lightly ordered her daughter with an iron undertone.
The girl threw Longeton such a startled look, he took pity. “I would be pleased if you would, Miss Buckley,” he said, his frown lightened and arm offered.
Laying her hand cautiously on it, Dianna threw a petrified plea at her mother.
“Go on now,” said Lady Augusta with eyes that belied her airy tone.
Dianna dared do naught but lead on.
The trembling of the hand upon his arm could not be caused by the coolness of the air, Longeton decided and spoke, hoping to calm her nerves, and elicit a response that would accredit his decision in a bride. “Your gardens are delightful.”
“Yes, your lordship. Mother insists upon the best,” answered Dianna, too fearful to look at the sombre-visaged Marquess. “She oversees all the work—of course, much of the original gardens have been removed.”
“And what has been your contribution to the scheme?” Longeton asked as he looked about absentmindedly, wishing he knew what had possessed him in coming here.
“I am not allowed ... that is, I have been away at school until recently,” Dianna answered, badly flustered.
“Of course. Your mother has mentioned that,” he replied in a quick, offhand manner, the thought suddenly occurring to him that a young boy must be allowed out for fresh air and that his governess would have to escort him.
If it had not been for the Marquess tone, Dianna would have taken his words for insult since her mother had spoken of her schooling and little else this morn. Stealing a look at his lordship, she was puzzled, for it appeared to her that he was searching the gardens for something or someone.
Longeton, glancing down, caught Dianna’s curious stare. Quickly looking ahead, he saw a tall tightly trimmed hedgerow. “Is that a maze?” he asked.
Taking her eyes from his face, Dianna looked to the hedge. “Why, yes. ‘Buckley’s Folly’ mother calls it. It is the only portion of the gardens that remains from my father’s boyhood.
For some reason he steadfastly refused to allow it to be torn out.
“But come, mother said you were to see the rose garden and it is through the trellised portal just ahead.”
As they stepped forward, the faint call of a horn drifted overhead.
“What an odd call,” noted Longeton. “It cannot be a mail coach.”
“Oh heavens, no,” Dianna said with feigned horror. “Mother would not allow such an intrusion.”
The child is not a complete idiot after all if she realizes her mother is not perfect, thought Longeton as they proceeded into the rose garden. Here he found something to truly admire for it was magnificent, having an array of roses that rivalled those of his estate.
The horn sounded closer. Dianna paused and looked back to the trellis. “It is those Sherrad boys,” she said, adopting her mother’s haughty demeanour.
Wincing at the nasal quality of her voice, Longeton recalled what the Baron had said of their ages and wondered at her evident dislike.
“Ever since Mathew Sherrad learned that Parker had an enthusiasm for horns, he has sounded a call whenever he approaches Buckley House. Childish in the extreme, don’t you agree, your lordship? Children should not be encouraged in such silliness,” she ended sharply.
Her sullen expression hinted more of exasperation than abhorrence of young Sherrad’s entertainment of her brother, the Marquess noted, and decided feminine company of this nature should be taken only in small doses. “If visitors have arrived, we should rejoin your mother,” he suggested.
“Lord Sherrad’s sons are not company,” Dianna said rebelliously. “Mother will be displeased if we rush.”
“As you wish, Miss Buckley,” Longeton said but led forward at a more brisk pace. How, he thought once again, did I ever delude myself in thinking I could come to bear being lead about by a green girl of eight and ten whose only words are those “mother said”? Perhaps I should ask Gram if we Longetons are addlepated. The thought of Gram brought back once more the brooding cast to his features.
Very quickly Dianna was tired by his lordship’s pace and agreed they should return to the others. Although she had kept her hand only lightly on his sleeve as they walked, as they neared her mother, who had been joined by the Baron and two passably handsome young gentlemen, Dianna took in a sharp breath and slipped her hand about his arm.
The shorter of the two visitors threw a comradely “hello” to Dianna as they approached while the other stood frowning deeply, his eyes upon Dianna’s hand the Marquess’ arm.
Seeing her daughter’s hand about his lordship’s arm caused Lady Augusta to visibly preen. The Baron turned as he observed his wife’s overly pleased behaviour.
“Longeton, these are Lord Sherrad’s sons—Viscount Mathew and his brother, Nicholas.”
The older Sherrad nodded with barely concealed hostility while Nicholas reached out to shake Longeton’s hand.
“Baron Buckley has told us you wish a turn on the hunters,” Nicholas said enthusiastically. “Is the roan we saw saddled beside the Baron’s Swiftwing yours?”
“Yes. I wish to show his mettle to Baron Buckley before I try his.”
“It is a capital beast you have, isn’t it Matt?” he said, turning to his brother.
“It looked sound,” the young Viscount said, dismissing the subject. His eyes remained upon Dianna’s hand, which still rested upon his lordship’s arm. “I did not see Toby or Grandee saddled. Is Thomasina or Parker ill today?” he asked the Baron.
“Ill, ah ...” stumbled the Baron.
“Neither is ill,” Lady Augusta said, rising sharply. “Come, Dianna, the gentlemen wish to be off—unhindered by anyone of our mean.”
“Pardon, Lady Augusta,” Mathew Sherrad said, bowing to her, “you know that is most untrue. Why, we would welcome the company of two such charming ladies as yourselves. Be convinced to join us.”
“Yes, Dianna—as you did befo
re you went to that school,” added Nicholas.
“If you will excuse us,” Lady Augusta said with a brisk nod at Dianna, “we must go. Now, daughter.” Taking the girl’s free hand, she led her towards the house.
“Hrruuumph,” the Baron sounded, clearing his throat to attract his visitors’ attention. “It appears we must be satisfied with ourselves. No matter, let us be off.”
“Why are Tommi and Parker not coming with us?” Mathew asked. “Did someone object?”
“Now, calm yourself. Of course no one objected,” blustered the Baron. “It is just that, well, my ... Lady Augusta feels it best if Parker remain indoors today.” A bright smile lit the Baron’s face. “Yes, that is it. The boy has a touch of a chill. Enough—come along.
“Swiftwing will outpace all your mounts—despite the extra weight he carries,” the Baron challenged with a hearty laugh.
Hard galloping around the Baron’s estate did little to improve Viscount Sherrad’s demeanour. Marquess Longeton looked more dour than ever when they reined to a halt before Buckley House.
After a few attempts at conversation at the beginning of the ride, the Baron had taken to setting a fast pace as a solution to the void the attempts caused. Only Nicholas continued to enjoy himself.
Buckley led the way up the steps and through the doors held open by Gill, then on to the main salon. There he went straight to the liquor decanters and poured drinks for everyone.
In silence the glasses were raised, tipped slightly in salute, and emptied. A loud hiccup broke the uneasy stillness. The four glanced at each other, then towards a large, cloth-covered table several feet away. As they stared at the slowly swaying floor-length cloth covering, a strangled hiccup came from its direction.
“Did you say Parker had taken a chill, Lord Buckley?” Nicholas asked, handing his glass to the Baron. “What a shame he could not come on the ride. Swiftwing had not a chance against ... what was it you called your mount, Lord Longeton?”
“Rapscallion,” Longeton replied. “As a colt he was very mischievous. I almost despaired of his being trained to a useful purpose.”