Thomasina

by Joan Vincent

  Longeton sipped his port. “No.”

  “Come now. Humour an old woman. What harm could be done? The entire family would be invited.”

  Cocking his head, the Marquess studied his grandmother. She was plotting, but what? “This is your home as well as mine. You may invite whomever you choose,” he answered.

  “But would you agree to entertain a summer party for me? We could invite some of your acquaintances. A nicely mixed group with a few choices from the marriage mart ....” She paused and changed tactics as a scowl appeared on her grandson’s face.

  “Can I help it if some invited are of marriageable age and circumstances?” the Marchioness complained. “It will be a simple group of young men and women, a few parents, and someone to amuse me—with simple entertainment.”

  Longeton hooted, “Gram, overdone—when did you ever have ‘simple’ entertainment at Thornhill?”

  “Your appearance is much improved with a smile upon your features. It brings to mind your grandfather,” she said sadly, then slapped the table.

  “It is settled then, I shall invite the Buckleys, including of course their niece, whom I understand has come to live with them.” Pausing, she studied his features, which were now masked. With satisfaction, she rushed on.

  “You may, of course, submit the names of those you wish included. I will fill it out for an even number.” She smiled approvingly at Longeton. “Yes, Thornhill should be much improved by the presence of young people, will it not?”

  The Marquess did not answer, for his mind was taken with the thoughts of one certain young person and the possible consequences of her presence at Thornhill.

  Chapter Eleven

  Day by day the week of the summer party drew nearer. June turned to July as Lady Longeton watched her grandson bury himself ever deeper in the affairs and details of the estate. He spent his days closeted with his agent or in long hours in the saddle inspecting and visiting the farms and cottages of the estate. At night the Marquess stared long hours into space or held a book before him without turning more than a page.

  All of his actions increased the Marchioness’s confidence in her belief about what had happened at Buckley’s. She greeted the morn of the Monday appointed for the arrival of the guests with an exuberance she had lacked for many years.

  It was late-afternoon when Jane woke Lady Longeton from her nap.

  “Has everyone arrived?” the Marchioness asked as the abigail helped her dress.

  “Yes, they are all here.”

  “Did his lordship greet any of the guests personally?”

  “I do not believe so. Eaken said he left following an early breakfast and was expected to return only shortly before supper is to be served.”

  “Good. I want to see his first reaction to the guests. Finish the buttoning—quickly! I wish to go down early.”

  As was her habit, Lady Longeton was the first to arrive in the main salon where the guests would gather before going in to dine. Taking a seat that provided a good view of both the doors and the main portion of the room, she arranged her skirts.

  They may say I am aged, she thought, but they find only the facade has changed. If I use my wits, this week will prove most profitable.

  The first to join the Marchioness were Lord John Tuttle, a friend of Longeton’s and his young sister, Lady Terese. Sir Peter Appleton, another school friend of the Marquess’, greeted Lady Longeton with an exaggerated bow and solemnly kissed her hand.

  “Still the flatterer, Peter,” she laughed. “We should invite you more often. Nothing warms the heart of an old woman as quickly as a young rogue such as you.”

  “Old, my lady?” Sir Peter feigned puzzlement. “Why, if you had but two score years less and I two score years more, we would make a match of it.”

  This remark elicited much laughter from those present. They were interrupted when Eaken announced the Buckleys.

  Lady Longeton watched their entrance with great interest. She had known the present Baron’s grandfather and judged him to be of the same ilk as he introduced his haughty, commoner wife. Lady Augusta gushed shrilly at the Marchioness who kept her smile firmly in place.

  When the Baroness drew a breath, Lady Longeton took the opening. “This is your daughter, Baron?”

  Proudly, he handed Dianna forward. The young girl curtsied deeply and would not raise her eyes to meet the commanding face of the Marchioness.

  “I trust you shall enjoy your visit here, child,” Lady Longeton greeted her pleasantly.

  “You were most gracious to invite us,” Dianna answered, after an anxious glance at her mother.

  Mentally tallying a point in favour of the Marquess’ judgment as she inwardly quivered at this faint echo of Lady Augusta, Lady Longeton beckoned Thomasina forward.

  “Why do you hang back, child?” she scolded lightly. “And this,” she said to the Baron, “is Helena’s daughter?

  “I was saddened to hear of your poor sister’s death.”

  “Yes, most tragic. But we have the joy of Thomasina’s presence. Come forward,” he beckoned.

  “You must forgive her,” he said in an undertone, “she is shy in society.”

  Lady Longeton did not find the rebellious eyes, sparking with displeasure which were not lowered as the girl sank into her curtsy, shy. The look was proud, daring fault to be found. The Marchioness bowed her head in answer to the curtsy, a glimmer of amusement coming over her features.

  “I believe you know Lord Tuttle, Baron. John, will you introduce everyone? My voice is not as strong as it once was.”

  The round of introductions was halted temporarily by the arrival of Lord and Lady Sherrad, Viscount Sherrad, and his brother, Nicholas. Entering with them was Lord Stone, a neighbour of the Marchioness near her age who had brought an uninvited guest.

  After the acknowledgments and introductions were completed, Lord Stone sat beside the Marchioness. “I trust you shall not mind my having brought an extra. I know how you detest odd numbers at dinner.” He motioned towards the dandy who had come with him.

  “George arrived just today for a visit. You recall Lord Sternbye—’Bent for Hell’ Sternbye they called him,” Lord Stone chuckled. “It appears the pit’s fallen near the trunk with this one,” he added in an undertone as he bent near Lady Longeton. “George has just returned from a tour of Italy.”

  The dandy spied his host seated with Lady Longeton and swaggered forward. Reaching for Lady Longeton’s hand, he dropped a wet kiss upon it. “Most kind of you to allow me to be present,” he said effusively. “Lord Stone has spoken of you often. I find your beauty as true as he pictured it for me.”

  Lady Longeton dismissed him with a nod. “How long is he to be visiting?” she asked.

  “I fear the entire week,” sighed Lord Stone. “His father thought he could benefit from my years of maturity. I like not what I have heard of him nor what I have seen. It is rumoured he has nearly ruined the family with his excesses and scrapes. Do not fear, though. I have warned him to be on his best behaviour,” he assured her with a pat to her hand.

  “I shall not worry about it. It is only for a week. At least you shall be spared his company for the most part. I am certain he will take it upon himself to presume an invitation to all our functions. But Brutus will manage him quite well.

  “Do not frown. There will be no harm done. It may even prove diverting.

  “Ah, here are the Claymores and their two lovely young daughters.”

  Lady Claymore greeted the Marchioness with a kiss on the cheek and presented her daughters, Ann and Mary.

  “The girls have certainly grown,” commented Lord Stone. “You must be proud to have two such lovely young ladies in your household.”

  “Yes, Lord Claymore and I are most pleased—and happy that the girls have been included in your plans. It is shameful that we do not visit more often—the distance is so brief.” She glanced at the others in the room. “But I do not see Lord Longeton.”

  “He will be here sh
ortly. Estate affairs have kept his hours filled of late,” Lady Longeton responded.

  Introductions made, polite conversation ensued as the young people became acquainted. The men discussed politics, the women fashion.

  Lady Longeton kept one eye on the doorway, knowing her grandson disliked being announced.

  Her watchfulness was rewarded as she saw him enter and surreptitiously observe the guests. She watched as his gaze roved over the company and then rested on one person for a long moment. The Marchioness looked away a moment before he stepped forward to greet her.

  Lord John and Sir Peter heard him and greeted Lord Longeton boisterously.

  Lady Longeton signalled Eaken to announce dinner and kept her eyes on Thomasina.

  * * * *

  The ladies returned to the main salon, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Lady Augusta kept a constant check upon Dianna during the meal. She now took the opportunity of a lull in the older women’s conversation to observe her once again.

  Five young women were gathered about the piano. Mary and Ann Claymore played while all joined in the singing. Happening to catch her daughter’s eye, Lady Augusta nodded approval and Dianna weakly smiled back.

  She fits in, proper as any, the Baroness thought. There shall be no problem now. Thinking back to the day Longeton bolted from Buckley House, she wondered how they could have been so wrong.

  It was all so clear now; his lordship had simply panicked at the last moment, as men were certainly prone to do when it came to marriage. Dianna would not fail at this second chance. She had instructed her daughter long and well in what was expected of her. There would be no more missish behaviour about the Marquess being sinister—the girl took after her father.

  That fear had been dealt with this month past, she thought. Ah, yes, entirely, she thought with complete satisfaction.

  Even her husband’s joining the young women in song when the men returned to the salon did not disturb Lady Augusta, although he did seem out of place with Sir Peter and Lord John.

  Lady Claymore signalled an early end to the evening by announcing that they must depart since the tour of the ruins was set for mid-morn of the next day.

  Objections were raised by the young men, but Lady Longeton, rising, silenced them. “Your sorrow shall be brief, my fine young gentlemen,” she teased. “You have only a few short hours before you all see one another again and explore Haunt Haven.”

  The Claymore girls and Dianna giggled nervously.

  Lady Terese whispered to Thomasina, “It is said to be the haven of a group of quite wicked ghosts. Is it not wonderful?” she twittered.

  Suppressing the desire to roll her eyes in disgust, Thomasina nodded noncommittally. Somehow she did not find the prospect of visiting ghosts—even vile ghosts—as disturbing as spending a week at Thornhill. The evening’s gaiety had been spoiled for her by the brooding presence of the Marquess.

  He had joined in only nominally remaining for the largest part of the evening with the older gentlemen despite his grandmother’s displeased grimaces whenever he chanced to look in her direction.

  Wraps were brought to ward off the evils of a damp summer chill and the bidding of good-byes began. Lady Longeton and her grandson were busy doing so when Dianna joined Thomasina with an unladylike poke.

  “Isn’t that Lord Sternbye handsome?”

  Thomasina eyed the dandy’s green and yellow striped frock coat and canary-yellow pantaloons. A quick glance at her cousin told her the girl was not joking. “He sets a different style,” she whispered back charitably.

  Looking back to the admired figure she could not help contrasting it to Longeton’s graceful form in the smooth-fitting grey cutaway and skin-hugging white breeches, which she had to admit showed his leg most favourably. Her eyes travelled up his form, admiring it against her will.

  Lord Longeton turned his head as Lord Stone approached to bid farewell. His eyes locked with Thomasina’s as he shook hands with the elderly man.

  “Very pleasant evening, Brutus. How is Rapscallion? ...

  “Brutus?” he repeated, aware the Marquess’ attention was not upon him. Turning, he saw it was Thomasina the Marquess was looking at. Giving Longeton a nudge, he said, “Most interesting week you shall have.” He chuckled good-naturedly.

  Longeton ignored Lord Stone’s words. ““Good evening to you. Do come again soon, my lord.”

  “My pleasure, Brutus. Good eve to you, my lady.” He bowed before the Marchioness with a knowing wink.

  Casting a look back to Thomasina, Longeton let a mask fall over his face. Viscount Sherrad whispered with her—far too intimately.

  Chapter Twelve

  The early light cast a pale shadow outside the window as Thomasina looked across the garden below. A glance at the other bed assured her that Dianna was still asleep.

  She gazed for a brief time at the sleeping form of her cousin. What a change that had occurred in the girl over the last month. A new civility was apparent in all her relationships, especially with Parker, to whom she had begun to show some kindness.

  Even Thomasina was no longer subjected to her haughtiness and gibes. Dianna had made no objection when she learned they must share a room at Thornhill. Such acceptance on her part would have been unthinkable a month past.

  Shaking her head, Thomasina turned her gaze back to the window. She wondered what Aunt Augusta would do if she knew her lengthy lectures were having an effect opposite to what she desired.

  When she found her mind leaping ever closer to thoughts of the Marquess, Thomasina yearned for physical activity to distract her. She tiptoed from the room into the deserted hall.

  No one had yet risen nor, she thought, were they likely to, for some time. With vigorous steps she walked down the hall and, paused when she came to an intersection.

  The second corridor had a bright red rug running down the centre. The walls on either side were lined with full-length portraits. On the right were what appeared to be past Marquesses of Thornhill judging from the resemblance to the present one. The formal attire placed them in their time period. They seemed to stare with disapproval at her. To the left, the wives stared haughtily from their height, seemingly disliking the inspection of a stranger. Thomasina studied each portrait as she moved slowly down the corridor.

  “Well, Lord Brutus, you come by your grimness naturally enough,” she said. “A more dour set of ancestors I have yet to see.”

  “Miss Thait, her ladyship desires to speak with you.”

  Whipping about, Thomasina’s heart momentarily lurched as she took in the Marchioness’ abigail’s towering bulk.

  “This way, miss,” Jane ordered, stalking to a door and motioning Thomasina forward.

  With the wish that she had remained in her room, Thomasina walked gingerly into the sitting room.

  Jane followed upon her heels. “In the hall studying the portraits, my lady. A point for you,” the abigail said in an odd sort of introduction that mystified Thomasina who watched the Marchioness’ knowing nod.

  “You are an early riser, Miss Thait. I like that,” Lady Longeton greeted her as Jane withdrew.

  Involuntarily, Thomasina’s head went up proudly. Her face was a clear reflection that she did not need nor care for the Marchioness’s approval.

  “I understand you are one and twenty,” Lady Longeton continued. She raised her quizzing glass and studied Thomasina’s form quite deliberately from the copper curls to the hem of her day gown.

  Anger, not embarrassment, at this examination tinged the girl’s cheeks as she strove to control the dislike she suddenly felt for the haughty, aristocratic lady before her.

  “Be seated, Miss Thait,” Lady Longeton said slowly. She lowered her quizzing glass to her lap.

  The two women gazed at each other intently. The older judged the other’s mettle. The younger recalled her mother’s admonition of kindness to all elderly whatever their habits.

  “Why do you take me in such distaste, Miss Thait?” Lady Longeto
n asked bluntly.

  Thomasina gave a small gasp. “My lady, I meant no offence. Pardon me for being so bold,” she said lowering her eyes.

  “Young woman, at my age I do not have time to sort out riddles. Speak plainly, if you please,” the Marchioness demanded.

  “I ... I meant I was sorry for staring at you so,” Thomasina explained looking up.

  Lady Longeton let out a hoot of laughter. “Is that what the young are taught? No wonder I can never get anyone to look directly at me,” she said with a smile.

  “That is better,” she continued when Thomasina began to relax. “Now, take the chair as I bade you. I wish to learn more of your life.”

  Biting back a retort, Thomasina wondered at the old woman’s callousness. Was not the fact that her grandson had caused the death of her parents enough knowledge?

  “The Thait family is not very large, is it? I believe your father was a younger son,” the Marchioness said. “I must apologize for knowing so little of your family. I have lost contact with many as I have grown older.

  “The Baron told me you lost your parents little more than a year past. How tragic to lose both. I do not recall hearing of their deaths, but then we lost my grandson near the same time.”

  “I am sorry,” Thomasina said sincerely at the Marchioness’ pained expression.

  “No, no. It is always best to go forward, as I am certain you have learned.

  “Do you enjoy living with the Buckleys?”

  “My uncle is ... kind.”

  “When his wife allows it, I should think,” Lady Longeton rejoined.

  Eyes widened at such outspokenness; Thomasina wondered what next she would hear. A grudging respect for the grande dame sprang up within her.

  “Ah, you know not what to think of my tongue. That is as it should be, for no one seems to know what to make of it,” she chuckled gleefully, then became serious.

  “Would you care to leave the Buckleys? Perhaps for a household of your own?” she asked with deft swiftness.