Thomasina

by Joan Vincent

  “Exactly as I feel,” the Baron said, shaking his head tiredly. “What course did you finally find effective?” he asked, approaching the table as yet another squeak came forth. “Perhaps your trainer could help me with a particular case I have in mind.” With these words, he twitched the tablecloth up.

  “Come out, Parker,” he ordered. “You are the only member of this household addled enough to hide in such a place.”

  A low chuckle from Nicholas caused the Baron to glance at his three guests. Nicholas was striving to forestall a guffaw, and Mathew stood with an expression of commiserate embarrassment upon his features. Even Lord Longeton’s usually sombre visage was showing signs of a smile threatening to spread across it. Baffled at the cause of such a reaction to his son caught in such simple mischief, the Baron stepped back to peer under the table.

  The hand that had secured his silence at last dropping away, Parker called to Nicholas from under the table, “Is it truly such a fast beast?” unaware that his father had begun to gape.

  “Thomasina! What ... ?”

  Voices coming from the hall outside the salon extinguished the Baron’s remaining words.

  With lightning swiftness, Mathew Sherrad moved forward and pulled the tablecloth in place.

  “We did not realize you gentlemen had returned,” Lady Augusta piped in false surprise as she minced into the room, Dianna in tow. “Did I hear someone call Thomasina?”

  The awkward silence caused by her question was covered by Longeton, who simply ignored it. “How could anyone wish to be from your gracious presence? We rushed to rejoin you.”

  “You are far too kind, your lordship,” she gushed but tossed a questioning glance at her husband, who shrugged slightly in reply. “Well,” she said, sweeping the room with a hawkish glance, “I have ordered a cold collation to be served. Would you care to join us?”

  “Yes. All of us have a healthy appetite,” the Marquess answered. “Baron?”

  “Yes, yes. Let us go, by all means. Nothing like a good hard ride to raise an appetite, you know. By all means we will join you, Augusta,” he said with obvious relief, herding the Viscount and his brother forward.

  “There is no need to rush,” Lady Augusta reprimanded her husband, her suspicions raised by his behaviour.

  “Lord Longeton, you may take Dianna to the dining room and Mathew, you may escort me. What fine young men you and Nicholas have become,” she prattled as she searched the room once more for a telltale sign of something amiss.

  Longeton briskly led the way from the room. Lady Augusta was forced to fast steps as the young Viscount kept to the pace.

  “I would not have thought you so famished,” she complained exasperatedly as they left the salon, keeping step for fear of being trod upon by the Baron and Nicholas, who followed heavy on their heels.

  Beneath the cloth-covered table, Parker laid his small hand upon Thomasina’s in a silent plea for forgiveness. The answering anger in her eyes startled him for they had more than once shared common mirth at being rescued from the fury of Lady Augusta through the efforts of the Sherrad brothers.

  “But we were not found out—at least not too badly,” he began in protest, falling silent as Thomasina turned her face away. She motioned and he scrambled from beneath the table, holding the cloth up as she followed.

  Rising, she smoothed her skirts and, taking Parker by the hand, pulled him along as she went to the door of the salon. Her reserved haughtiness was dropped as she peered around the door.

  With a finger raised in caution to Parker, Thomasina dropped his hand and picked up her skirts. After one last survey of the hall, she nodded to Parker and they both burst from the salon and sped down the hall away from the dining room.

  Chapter Six

  The atmosphere lightened as the Buckleys and their guests enjoyed the cold repast. Viscount Sherrad’s demeanour towards Longeton softened; knowledge of a shared secret caused the conversation to flow much more freely than it had.

  “Is it true we shall have music after we dine on the morrow?” Nicholas asked Lady Augusta.

  “Yes. The musicians are coming from London and ... I have sent further invitations. There shall be more young people. It will be quite an evening for Buckley House,” she answered, preening.

  Longeton lost the trend of conversation as he recalled the sight of Thomasina huddled beneath the table trying to hang onto the boy. Certainly a different manner of chit than usual, he thought with an inward smile. It would be most interesting to have an opportunity to speak with her.

  “I am happy you are pleased, your lordship.”

  Lady Augusta’s words broke through his ruminations. He nodded affably, disguising his lack of attention.

  “Of course, you will lead Dianna out for the first set,” Lady Augusta continued with certainty.

  Comprehension dawned upon the Marquess and his wits scrambled to save him. “But I cannot,” he said smoothly.

  “But why?” retorted the ruffled Baroness.

  “It is only fitting that I should lead out only the most gracious lady present first,” he answered with a slight twitch of his brow, “and of course, my lady, that can only be you.”

  The Baroness’s ego ballooned at this flattery.

  “But of course, for you I will dance with all the ladies of your most pleasant household,” Longeton added, nodding graciously at Dianna.

  Lady Augusta’s self-satisfaction dispelled any suspicion of his intent.

  “That means that Thomasina will be present for the dance then, does it not?” asked Mathew Sherrad, seeing the opening Longeton had presented.

  “Why ... why ...” stumbled the flustered Lady Augusta.

  “Thomasina, ah, yes, your niece, I believe,” the Marquess said casually. Pausing, he looked questioningly at the Baroness. “There is some reason why she should not be allowed to attend?” he asked with just a tinge of suspicion in his voice.

  Glowering first at the Viscount, Lady Augusta swung a weak smile to the Marquess. “Of course not,” she said. “It is just that Thomasina has not, well ... has not moved in a very large social circle. She has just come out of mourning and I did not want to make her feel ... any distress.”

  The questioning scowl upon Longeton’s features deepened.

  “But she will be persuaded to join us,” the Baroness rushed on, deciding there was more harm in making his lordship suspicious than in having the ungrateful girl present. The thought of presenting Thomasina at so large a gathering rankled, but she soothed her distaste with the knowledge that Thomasina’s presence would be eclipsed by her own triumph. This was to be her victory over all her neighbours and their daughters. Everyone would have to know that Lord Longeton was present for only one reason, and if they did not, she would be certain the fault was corrected.

  Lady Augusta looked at Dianna with unaccustomed fondness only to frown as she saw her daughter huddled over her plate, not daring to look at the Marquess. Longeton was looking more pleased than at any time since his arrival, she noted with pleasure. But men are unpredictable she reasoned. She would have to see that Buckley got the matter settled—the sooner the better for all.

  Upstairs, having returned safely to the schoolroom, Thomasina was giving Parker a sound scolding.

  He stood before her, head dropped, lip protruding, slowly shuffling his feet.

  “But we always go riding with Matt and Nicholas,” he protested as she ended. “It is not fair we should have to stay here just because he is here.”

  “It might not be fair, Parker, but it is what we have been told to do, and you must learn the virtue of obedience. Your lack of it will cause my death yet. If your mother had discovered us, you would have a tutor tomorrow and I would be sent away. There can be no more pranks.”

  “But, Tommi—”

  “No, Parker. For both of our welfares, you must behave properly. Do you wish to see me gone?”

  “No, Tommi, you know I do not, but ...”

  Thomasina shook her head.
“Your mother has her mind set upon this match for Dianna. She will not hesitate to be done with anyone she views as a danger to it—”

  “And I may be a danger to it,” finished Parker sadly. “Why don’t they love me, Tommi? Am I so bad?”

  “They do love you, Parker,” she answered softly, struck by his sudden grief. “It is that they have trouble showing it,” she added, hugging him to her.

  “Oh, Tommi,” he choked out through silent tears, “can you not marry the Marquess and take me away with you? I would never misbehave again, ever.”

  With a harsh, choked laugh pushed from her throat, Thomasina took Parker by the shoulders. She looked directly into his eyes. “Your parents love you very much—you are not to think otherwise, no matter how it seems to you,” she said forcefully. “You must never say—never even think—such a thought again. Do you understand?”

  Parker nodded—the telltale sign of mischief suddenly twinkling to the fore in his eyes.

  Thomasina saw it and compassion for the boy fled. “To your books, Master Buckley,” she ordered sternly, “and this time you sit on the side opposite the door.

  “Let us review your geography lesson. Name the sovereign countries on the continent.”

  Taking his seat complacently, Parker began the list. “France, under the rule of His Royal Highness, Louis XVIII ...”

  Neither her eyes saw nor her ears heard his answers as Thomasina mulled over his previous words. Whatever comes upon children’s minds? she thought. How could he ever have gotten that idea? I and “Lord Brutus”? The poor child needs lessons in what is required of the rescuers of damsels in distress!

  Thomasina forced her mind from the subject and to listen to Parker, but part of it asked, Could not “Lord Brutus” fulfill some of those requirements?

  Chapter Seven

  The entire household was in a flurry of activity. Although the invited guests for the evening’s entertainment were not large enough in number to be able to term the event a “ball” it would be a very large soiree.

  Lisa, who usually found cause to dawdle and visit whenever she came to the schoolroom, merely set the breakfast tray upon the table, rolled her eyes, and left.

  Thomasina ate heartily, bracing for the day, as Parker was already showing signs of restlessness. If only there were some way he could have a romp out-of-doors, she thought, but she dared not ask her Aunt Augusta. Not today, even though I would like to see more than these four walls.

  A glance at Parker, shifting uneasily in his chair as he idly stirred his porridge, caused her to mentally calculate the risks of venturing forth without asking permission. This done, she reached a quick decision.

  “Parker, have Nanny help you change to your riding boots. I will be but a moment in changing into my riding habit.”

  “But you said—”

  “I cannot see the harm in our going for a short ride this early in the morn. No one can be stirring but Mr. Gill, Mrs. Brown and the servants. We can trust the grooms not to betray us. Do you not want to go?”

  In answer, Parker scooted off his chair, ran and hugged her. “I was dreadful afraid you had changed, Tommi,” he said. “Let us race to see who is ready first.”

  Both scrambled to their rooms, Parker emerging first. He grinned triumphantly as Thomasina joined him. Returning the smile, she took his hand and made for the end of the floor and the servants’ stairs.

  The few who saw them paid no mind, being accustomed to their odd comings and goings.

  “Good morn to ye, miss, and to ye, Master Parker,” Bently greeted them. “I take it ye be wantin’ Toby and Grandee?”

  Thomasina acknowledged his greeting and nodded to his question. “How is your wife?” she asked him after he had signalled an undergroom to saddle their mounts.

  “She be much improved, than’s to ye, miss. The poultice has much improved the looks o’ the leg.”

  “I regret I have not been able to stop in.”

  “It be understood, miss. We than’ ye for what ye ‘ave done. Ah, here be the mounts.” Bently lifted Parker easily into the saddle. Turning to Grandee, he checked the cinch, then lifted Thomasina into the side-saddle.

  Settling into it and arranging her skirts, Thomasina spoke slowly, “I am afraid, Bently, that no one knows—”

  “Then best ye keep to the unused paths,” he laughed, cutting her off. “And come back by way of the path back of the stables. Now off with ye—do not tarry too long.” He watched as she and Parker rode away.

  “A fine lass, that one be,” he said to the undergroom. “Too bad Lord Longeton don’t ... ah, well, best to be back to work. We’ll ‘ave many an extra to find a place for this eve. Back to work with ye.”

  Once out of sight of the main house and its surrounding buildings, Thomasina picked up the pace. Grandee was restless from not having been ridden and was anxious for the outing. Toby, as always, had to be prodded forward. Thomasina gave Grandee her head since they rode this way often enough for her to know the path, and Parker would know where she would halt and await him.

  The wind swept across her face, exhilarating her, and she urged the mare to an even faster stride. The path they travelled was narrow and hemmed by shrubbery on both sides and the pace dangerous, for Thomasina had ridden little before coming to Buckley House. Since her arrival she had acquired a fair seat and generally was careful, but she did not have the judgment of a seasoned rider. This morn the judgment she did have was tossed aside as she felt the need to be completely unfettered—to forget the disarray of her emotions. Thus she rocketed down the narrow, little used path, unheedful of everything.

  A large roan appeared just as her ears discerned the sound of approaching hooves. The path was too narrow at this point for them to pass safely. Pulling frantically on the reins, the last thing Thomasina saw was a pair of startled, angry, emerald-green eyes.

  Parker, who had been forced to follow at a slower pace due to Toby’s sluggishness, was not witness to the mishap but only heard the frantic neighing and crashing sounds. Thumping his heels against Toby’s sides, he urged the pony down the path. Fear grabbed at him as he saw Grandee coming towards him, her saddle empty. The mare stopped as she approached her constant companion and Parker drew Toby to a halt. Sliding to the ground, he grabbed Grandee’s reins and secured both mounts to a nearby branch. Racing down the path, he ran with a pace akin to the rapid beat of his heart.

  The sight of a large roan hobbling towards him slowed his stride. Approaching the steed slowly, he clutched the reins as the stallion snorted and tossed his head but allowed the boy to hold him.

  “Why, you are the marquess’ steed,” Parker said as he patted the animal and looked at the right foreleg, which the animal was holding from the ground. “It doesn’t look too bad, boy,” he said, tying the steed to a low branch. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Sprinting away, Parker rounded the next turn of the path. Before him lay Thomasina, Lord Longeton bent over her.

  “Tommi!” he screamed, making a running leap and plopping down at her side.

  Thomasina lay upon her back, eyes closed, breathing very shallowly, unnaturally pale. “She’s dead.” Parker sought denial from the Marquess.

  “Calm yourself. She is not dead and will not be so for some time to come. Struck her head when she fell from the saddle. I can feel no broken bones. Here,” he ordered, handing Parker a kerchief. “Wet it with the dew from the grass and bring it back—at once!”

  Parker scurried to do as he was told, never questioning the command in his thankfulness that Thomasina was not seriously harmed.

  When he returned to their side, he found the Marquess sitting upon the ground, holding Thomasina across his lap with one arm about her. With his free hand he was loosening the top buttons of her riding habit.

  “What are you gawking at boy?” Longeton snapped, taking the dampened kerchief. Gently he wiped Thomasina’s face and then placed it across her brow, nodding with satisfaction. Glancing up, he encountered Parker’s open-mouthed
stare.

  “You must be Master Parker,” he said easily. “I am Brutus Longeton. Did you see Rapscallion as you were coming?”

  “Raps ... Rapscallion?”

  Longeton laughed. “A large roan—” He ended his words abruptly as Thomasina stirred.

  “Yes, sir ... your lordship. I tethered him just beyond the curve. He’s favouring his right foreleg, but it doesn’t look to be too bad.”

  “Good,” the Marquess answered, shifting his attention back to the boy. “Does Miss Thait always ride like the devil had found her?”

  “No, sir ... your lordship, that is. Tommi has a good seat—she’s always telling me to be careful. It’s only that she’s not been herself since...” His voice trailed off guiltily.

  “Since you pushed her out of the tree?” Longeton asked.

  Parker nodded unhappily.

  “You must treat Miss Thait more carefully in the future. She could have been seriously injured in such a fall. What if she would have not held to the vine—or it had broken? Or if she had gone into hysterics when all was done?” Longeton scolded lightly.

  Wide-eyed, Parker said, “I never thought the vine might break, but Tommi would never let go—not her. And she would never go into a fright,” he finished confidently.

  A moan came from Thomasina.

  “Everything is all right, Tommi,” Longeton said quietly. “Lie still now.”

  Relaxing, she did as he said.

  “Wait a while longer, then open your eyes slowly,” she heard the soft, kindly voice say. Returning to a grasping awareness, Thomasina did as the voice suggested. Slowly her vision focused on the face above hers. Recognition came and she attempted to sit up abruptly, but a terrible pounding in her head caused her to lean back involuntarily into the comforting security of his arm. She rested her head momentarily upon his chest and felt the ripple of muscle in his arm beneath her back. Hesitantly, she raised her head until their eyes met and each was held by the other’s.

  “Are you all right?” insisted Parker, placing his hand upon her arm. “Tommi, speak to me.”