“You haven’t changed either, Violet,” Lisa commented with a straight face and a quick smile. “That gown is very pretty, and the perfect shade of green. Green always did suit you.”
Meg stifled a laugh behind her hand at this backhanded compliment and nudged Violet before saying to her aunt, who was looking Lisa up and down through her quizzing glass,
“This is the poor girl I was telling you about, Aunt. She was at Blacklands with Vi and me, and Teddy. Miss Crisp was reportedly the cleverest girl in the school, which I suppose, when you think about it, being poor and with nothing better to do with her time than fill her head with the nonsense we were taught, she ought to have been—”
“Clever never got a girl anywhere worth getting,” the matron announced stridently. She peered at Lisa with one magnified eye. “The wonder of it is—how do the poor enter such an esteemed institution?”
“The same way as everyone else,” Lisa replied cheerfully. “Through the front gates.”
The matron gave a start and drew in a breath and Violet and Meg held their breath too, hoping to see Miss Lisa Crisp get her comeuppance for her impertinent reply from such a stickler for form as the Dowager Marchioness of Fittleworth. But then her ladyship burst out laughing. It was such a genuine laugh full of good humor that Lisa decided the aunt, unlike her nieces, was genuine, too, and she liked her all the more for it.
“Hahahaha! Through the front gates! Hahahaha! I do approve of a gal with a sense of humor!”
Lisa smiled and dropped a curtsy to her ladyship, and having found the perfect excuse to quit the company of the matron’s sour-faced nieces, said to Teddy, “Please excuse me, dearest. I spy Becky, and I must make certain she is being looked after…”
And off she went, back straight and hands clasped under her small breasts, and made her way through the crowd across the pavilion to where the maids, nurses, and footmen were congregated, waiting to serve and be of service. And when she put up her hand to Becky and Becky waved back, Violet and Meg could hardly believe their eyes that Lisa Crisp had quit their presence in preference for the company of servants. They both hoped the Dowager Marchioness was also making note of this social solecism, but to their frustration, their aunt had dropped her quizzing glass back on its riband and was talking to Teddy.
“I was hoping your grandmother would be here, Teddy. I did not see her up at the big house. Then again, the place is so vast one could go a week without seeing another guest! Or is she arriving in the next day or two?”
“Granny won’t be coming to the wedding, my lady,” Teddy explained flatly.
Lady Fittleworth sat up. “What? The Dowager Countess of Strathsay not attend her granddaughter’s wedding? This is the event of the season! Is she unwell?”
“No. Oh, I should correct myself. Not so unwell she was unable to make the effort to attend.”
“What does your mama say to it?” Lady Fittleworth demanded stridently. “More to the point, what does His Grace of Roxton say? What does his mother say? What possible excuse could Charlotte Strathsay have for not being here?”
“Granny insists I be given away at the church altar by Uncle Dair, because as Earl of Strathsay, he is head of my family. And if not Uncle Dair, then Uncle Roxton, because he is the head of all our families. Granny said any man less than an earl or a duke giving me away would be treating our union and our guests with less than the respect due our lineage and the lineage of our guests. At least that is what I think she said in her letter of complaint to Mama, which she also sent to Uncle Roxton and to Uncle Dair.”
“And what was their reply to such a severe letter of complaint?” Lady Fittleworth gave an irreverent snort and answered her own question. “I can guess what your Uncle Dair told her. As a former military commander he would’ve been blunt to the point of rudeness. And your Uncle Roxton, while being more diplomatic, would’ve put Charlotte in her place.”
Teddy smiled. “They did. Particularly because Granny blames Mama for my choice, when the choice was mine to make. After all, I’m the one being married!”
“Of course you are, child. So who is walking you down the aisle and giving you away at the altar?”
“My step-papa of course. Uncle Dair and Uncle Roxton agree he should have that honor. Of course Mama and Jack think so too. So that’s all that matters.”
“It is all that matters,” Lady Fittleworth agreed with a smile, and made a show of looking about her as if she had lost something or someone. “I do not see your Granny Kate—”
“Oh! That reminds me, my lady,” Teddy interrupted. “Granny Kate is here, but not here at this picnic because she finds crowds are not to her liking these days. But she does very much wish you to visit her. So I am to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening at the Gatehouse Lodge. Silvia is making her special dishes, and Granny Kate told me how much you enjoy all things Italian, most particularly the food, and how you once lived in Leghorn—”
“The best years of my life!” Lady Fittleworth exclaimed on a sigh, and clasped her hands together. “Thank you, child. I accept the invitation with great pleasure. I remember your Granny Kate as a gracious hostess. And when Fittleworth was consul in Florence, we often had her to stay with us, too.” She grabbed Teddy’s hand, pulled her closer and said confidentially, “You must not misconstrue me, my dear, for I do enjoy the occasional all-female gathering, but the decided lack of male company here today makes for a dull affair, particularly for my nieces. They need any and every opportunity put at their disposal to meet and make a favorable impression on a suitable suitor. They are pretty enough, but possess waspish tongues, and to their great misfortune do not possess a defining feature—such as your glorious red locks, or Miss Crisp’s beauty. Your friend might be poor but she has a face any painter would wish to immortalize with his brush. And I like her direct approach; men, no doubt, do too.”
“Aunt! How unkind you are,” Meg Medway whined, blushing. “Unlike Miss Crisp, who I am very sure has never had an offer made to her, despite her-her beauty—for how can the poor be made offers when they have nothing to offer—I was made an offer just last week—”
“Which you should have accepted,” Lady Fittleworth stated bluntly. “Knatchbull isn’t the brightest candle in the sconce—after all he did offer for you—but he does have an income of a thousand a year and every expectation of inheriting his father’s pile, even if it is badly in need of repair; the winds in Wales are brutal on man, beasts, and buildings!”
Meg pulled a face of disgust. “Marry Vi’s brother? I can do better than Bully Knatchbull.”
Violet glared at her friend. “You didn’t tell me Bully had made you an offer. I’m glad you didn’t take it. Bully can do better. Much better.”
“Enough, wasps!” Lady Fittleworth demanded, lightly rapping each girl on the back of the hand with the closed sticks of her fan. She turned to Teddy with a roll of her eyes.
“How you tolerated these two at school, I shall never know! But do pity me because I have been instructed to have them married off before their parents return from abroad in the new year. So I hope Roxton and the other fathers and their cubs are now returned from their expedition into the woods, so that all the gentlemen may join the ladies for the rest of the week’s activities before the wedding ceremony and the ball…?”
Teddy smiled at Violet and Meg who lost their disgruntled demeanors at the prospect of male company at future social gatherings, and reassured them and their aunt.
“This is the only all-female gathering, I assure you both. From tomorrow, all the men and boys will join us for the organized events, and as you are staying at the big house, you may even see them at the breakfast table, and most assuredly at all the dinners.”
“I heard mention of a cricket match…?” Violet asked hopefully.
“Between the Duke’s eleven and the guests’ eleven,” Teddy told them.
“Vi is hoping Lord Henri-Antoine will play.”
“He does. With Jack, on the Duke’s eleven,” Te
ddy told Meg.
“Did you hear, Vi?” Meg taunted her with a snigger. “Lord Henri-Antoine will be playing at cricket. Perhaps he’ll ask you to marry him after the match?”
Violet blushed, but embarrassment did not stop her retorting, “Perhaps he will! I have more chance of him making me an offer than him offering for you!”
“Westby said if Lord Henri-Antoine offers you anything not to take it because it will end with your ruin,” Meg retorted. “And that it most assuredly won’t end with him giving you his name—”
“Dear me, girls! Enough,” Lady Fittleworth demanded. “Whatever Lord Henri-Antoine’s unsavory proclivities, this is not the time nor the place to air them! You forget we are within earshot of his dear mama and his aunts, and Teddy is his cousin.”
“Thank you for your consideration, my lady. But what Meg says is true,” Teddy stated bluntly but without rancor. “Henri-Antoine isn’t the marrying sort, and if he does eventually settle, it won’t be until he is middle-aged, like his papa before him.”
“I tried to warn you,” Meg taunted Violet. “Roxton’s brother offering for you is as likely as—oh! As likely as Lord Henri-Antoine offering marriage to any other female in England—Why, even poor Lisa Crisp has as much chance as you—”
“Lisa Crisp as much chance as I?” Violet was affronted and scoffed. “Sometimes, Meg, you make the most outrageous statements. Your brain is the size of a-a peppercorn. At least Lord Henri-Antoine is aware of who I am. Whereas he wouldn’t know Lisa Crisp from a-a hedgehog! He certainly has no idea she exists.”
Violet Knatchbull’s emotive assertion was put to the test the very next evening when Henri-Antoine, Jack, and Lady Fittleworth were guests to dinner at the Gatehouse Lodge. Yet no one who enjoyed Silvia’s excellent Italian dishes could’ve foreseen that events of that evening would result in a confrontation at the cricket match the following day that would have far-reaching consequences, for Lisa, for Henri-Antoine, for Teddy, for Jack, and for the couple’s impending nuptials.
EIGHTEEN
WITH THE RETURN of Mr. Bryce and his young sons from two days and nights spent out in the woods, the Gatehouse Lodge was was no longer quiet and still. Servants, male and female, ran up and down stairs filling hip baths with soapy water. Nurses scrubbed clean the tired and aching bodies of their young charges, while their father found a few moments’ respite soaking in a tub in his dressing room. In the kitchen, Silvia and her assistants were preparing an Italian feast, while footmen under direction of the butler were trying their best to arrange the required number of chairs, and settings of china, silver, and glasses, around a dining room table that usually seated half that number. This problem was eased somewhat when Granny Kate’s companion Fran retired early, and Lady Mary decided her sons had had enough excitement in two days to last them the rest of the year. The boys would have their meals in their room and be put straight to bed. A warm bath and hot food would see them asleep well before the guests arrived.
“May I also be excused, my lady?” Christopher teased his wife, when she told him their sons were now in bed, having eaten a huge helping of Silvia’s pasta. “I should like you to tuck me up in bed, too.”
Lady Mary kissed him and smiled. She had come to his dressing room to see if he had fallen asleep in his bath, to find him in his shirtsleeves, tousle of damp auburn curls falling about his shoulders, the hair riband between his fingers. She took the riband and tied back his curls.
“You look tired. But no, you cannot be excused. We have guests to dinner.”
“Are you surprised I’m tired after two sleepless nights with a pack of brats who never slept! Roxton and your brother fared much better than I—”
“They are younger than you—”
“Thank you for the reminder, darling. But I will have you know I outlasted both of them on the second night, and was the one to keep the fire alight.”
“Of course you did.” Lady Mary kissed him again when he drew her into his arms. “And no doubt they are both asleep in their tubs—”
“Dair, mayhap, but not Roxton,” Christopher said with a huff of laughter. “The poor fellow returned home to a storm. His eldest three had a night of it with Jack and Harry and their friends, and outdid themselves by drinking and smoking until they were sick.”
“As only a sixteen-year-old and his two fourteen-year-old brothers can! But I’m surprised at Frederick. He’s always been the level-headed eldest son.”
“He possibly still is. But even Roxton was young once! Frederick has lost the use of his voice from smoking too many cheroots, and the twins—well one drank enough to pass out on a back stair and couldn’t be found for several hours; the other cast up his accounts all over his father’s billiards table.”
“Oh dear. Poor Roxton. Poor Deb…”
Christopher grabbed the brown linen frock coat from the chair where his valet had placed it.
“And from what Deborah told us of the number of bottles of wine and fine brandy consumed, I’m very sure Jack, Harry, and their friends are all nursing sore heads today.”
“Serve them to right, but they had best not be poor company this evening. Teddy is so looking forward to seeing Jack, and she and her school friend have been occupied all afternoon with what gowns to wear.”
“That’s a turnaround for Teddy, which must give you some pleasure, for she rarely has time for such feminine fripperies when at home.”
Mary took the frock coat from Christopher and helped him shrug into it.
“I wish I could say I had something to do with it, but it is all Lisa’s influence. Teddy is determined to see her dressed as befits her beauty. The poor child brought gowns with her that no self-respecting maid would wear. I am certain they are third-hand at best. Though she seems to be grateful to have them, which makes me wonder what pretty gowns, if any, she had at her disposal in London.”
Christopher turned to his wife.
“Did I hear Teddy say the girl was assisting in some capacity in a physician’s consulting rooms?”
“A dispensary for the sick poor. I suppose it is no small wonder then that she has no gowns worth wearing.”
“Then you must approve of Teddy’s plan for her friend’s future?”
Lady Mary was surprised. “Oh? How do you know? Teddy only told me of it last night, and you’ve been away in the woods.” When Christopher smiled down at her and then lightly kissed her forehead, she gave a little sigh. “Of course. She would have discussed it with you before anyone else, before me, or Jack. It’s all right. I’m all right. I’m glad she confides in you. And no doubt she was concerned about what I would think, so told you first.”
“Yes. And you’d just had Sophie-Kate… But she was most concerned about what Jack would think.”
“Was she? Jack has only ever wanted what makes Teddy happy. She is very fortunate in that regard.”
“In every regard. Jack will be a devoted husband, an excellent son-in-law, and in due course, a wonderful father. We could not ask for a better mate for our daughter.”
Lady Mary nodded and mechanically set to straightening the bow in her husband’s stock, mind preoccupied.
“I do know that. I just hope… As a newly married couple… This idea of Teddy’s for Miss Crisp is the right one at this time…”
“I have yet to meet this beauty in rags, but I’ll certainly let Teddy know if I have any reservations in that regard. Jack must come first in all things, and their marriage is what is most important. Though,” he added, snatching up his wife’s fingers and pressing his lips to the back of her hand, “There is something far more important on my mind this very minute—”
“As much as I would dearly love to tumble into bed with you, Mr. Bryce, we have a dinner party to—”
Christopher affected an expression of smug satisfaction. “My dear Lady Mary, I am heartened by your ardor, but for once I was thinking with another organ entirely. I’m famished.”
Lady Mary rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove
. “Men! If it’s not one organ, it’s the other!” She bustled to the door, turned and said, “Did I mention as well as your future son-in-law and Harry coming to dinner, your mother has invited Lady Fittleworth?”
Christopher’s brow furrowed. “Fittleworth? Where have I heard that name before?”
“Her husband was consul in Florence… They visited with your mother when you lived in Leghorn…”
Lady Mary suppressed a grin at Christopher’s lack of recall, color in her cheeks. She had heard all about the Fittleworths from Kate, and in particular Fanny Fittleworth’s infatuation for a much younger Christopher, which his mother found hilarious in the extreme. Mary predicted her husband’s reaction would be the polar opposite, and had the satisfaction of seeing the blood drain from his face when he finally made the connection. She quickly closed the door on his expletive-loaded response.
~ ~ ~
LISA AND TEDDY had spent the afternoon in Teddy’s bedchamber having Lisa pinned in and out of a selection of gowns that to Lisa seemed to have been conjured up as if by fairy dust, but which had in truth come from the wardrobes of the Duchess of Roxton, the Countess of Strathsay, and Teddy’s own clothes press, all three being of an approximate height to Lisa. The gowns were made from the sheerest cottons and the lightest silks in the most radiant array of colors she had ever seen, with delicate embroidery in spangles and metallic thread to sleeves, bodice, and hems. And there was such yardage in each gown that Lisa was certain three gowns could be cut from one in any other household. Accompanying these gowns were an assortment of matching under-petticoats, delicate white lace engageantes, stomachers covered in silk eschelles, as well as several chemises with lace edging worn to be seen at the low cut décolletage.
Teddy was insistent Lisa choose three gowns, all to be altered to fit her slim frame. The most ornate, with spangles, would be reserved for the wedding and the ball following the wedding breakfast, the second and most immediate gown to be worn that very evening to dinner, a third of summery cotton would be perfect for the cricket match tomorrow. And once the gowns had been selected by Teddy and Lisa, Lady Mary and her personal maid were called to give their final approval. And then Becky was set to work with her pins, her needle and thread, and her expertise.
Satyr’s Son: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Family Saga Book 5) Page 27