“That was to be a secret between Simone, Elsie, and myself.”
“My sister keeps no secrets from her parents, or her brothers.”
Lisa inclined her head at this. “I did not expect she would, though I had hoped she might for Simone’s sake. The poor girl is frightened out of her wits at losing her position within your mother’s household and being sent back to France—”
“Why? All because she cannot form her letters? My mother would never be so callous for that reason alone. Simone should know this, as should all the servants in my mother’s household.”
“But Simone knows the importance your mother—and Elsie’s papa—place on education, particularly the education of their daughter who is to be a duchess one day. She also knows Elsie is surrounded by persons who can benefit her upbringing. As someone who can read but not write, she feels inadequate.”
“My mother and Kinross place great importance on education, that is true, but just as important to them is truthfulness, loyalty, and-and feelings. What is the worth of an education to a person if that person is a liar, a cheat, and has a heart of stone? But do not look so worried. Simone will be taught to form her letters, my mother will see to it, and then she will be able to write to her family, and she will feel more at ease.” He sipped at his wine and then added, unable to hide his smile, “Elsie was particularly taken with your pretty writing box. Thank you for showing it to her. She now wants one of her own, and it must be as pretty and have as many secret drawers as the one owned by her friend Lisa.”
“Perhaps she will receive one for her ninth birthday…? And why would she not want one of her own. It is the most beautiful writing box in all of England, and I shall cherish it always, and because it was a gift—”
“A mere token.”
“—from you,” she concluded and gave his fingers a harder squeeze than he anticipated, which made him flinch in surprise. She giggled. “Forgive me, but it is a gift, not a mere anything!”
“My dear Miss Crisp, you may have just damaged my fingers and tomorrow I am required to bowl at the cricket match—”
“You bowl with your left hand? Teddy is left-handed too.”
“I see that is of more interest to you what hand is dominant than if you have bruised my fingers.”
“Rot!” she retorted and pouted. “You have lovely hands, but your fingers are still much stronger than mine, so—”
“Lovely hands? As lovely as my kissable mouth…?”
Lisa felt her face grow hot under his steady gaze. So she showed him her profile, chin level with the table. “I will not feed your vanity, be you thorn or no!”
Far from taking offence, he laughed out loud before he could stop himself, and hissed in her ear, “Witch! The sooner I can get you to Bath the better!”
She turned her head at that and found him so close that their noses almost touched. They stared at one another, breath held, and she said in a whisper something that left him nonplussed and wondering.
“That may not be soon enough for—”
“Harry? Harry!”
It was Jack, and he wasn’t the only one looking across the table at Henri-Antoine and Lisa Crisp in expectation of having their attention. Pudding had come and gone, and the table cleared of all but the coffee pot and cups and saucers. Hearing his name, the couple sprang apart, their entwined fingers pulling free, both keeping their hands under the table, as if by showing them there would be tell-tale signs of their illicit hand-holding.
“Uncle Bryce says you have an announcement to make,” Jack said with a sheepish grin at the couple. “And now is as good a time as any to make it, because after coffee we’ll all be moving back into the drawing room. Apparently there will be dancing, and I am required to practice the minuet—”
“—for the ball,” Teddy interrupted. “Granny Kate and Papa have volunteered to be our orchestra. Although, I think—and Mama agrees—it would be an excellent notion if Papa and I were to dance the minuet first, so Jack can see how it is properly done.”
“Indeed?! Am I such a bad dancer?” Jack asked indignant.
Henri-Antoine pushed back his chair and stood. “You are, Jack. You have two left feet. Mr. Bryce could offer you some pointers.”
“Thank you! Thank you very much!” Jack said without heat, but his facial expression was one of such affront that it had everyone laughing at his expense.
“What have you there, Harry?” Teddy asked, intrigued, when Henri-Antoine picked up the large parcel wrapped in cloth one of his lads had earlier brought into the room; he propped it on a chair facing the table. “Is this another surprise?”
“Yes. Another surprise.” Jack’s two left feet were instantly forgotten. “But a rather small surprise. Nothing can compete with the appearance of Cousin Charles.”
“That is very true,” Teddy agreed, and she leaned over and gave her uncle a swift kiss on the cheek. “Nothing will ever quite surprise us again, Uncle Charles. Will it, Mama?”
Lady Mary smiled and shook her head. “No. Nothing, my darling… But I feel for poor Harry—”
“Oh, don’t you worry about poor Harry!” Jack scoffed. “Apparently I’m the one who cannot dance!”
There was general laughter which considerably lightened the mood, and all attention focused again on the wrapped parcel. Henri-Antoine looked to Teddy.
“This is for you both, but most particularly for you, Teddy. So I am confident Jack will allow you the honor of unwrapping it.”
Teddy and Jack looked at one another and then at Henri-Antoine. It was Teddy who voiced what Jack was thinking too.
“But you have been generous to a fault, Harry. So much so that Jack and I can never ever thank you enough for what you have done for us, that this gift is surely too much.”
“This is but a token—”
“His lordship only deals in tokens, not gifts,” Lisa quipped.
Only after she had spoken and there was a heavy silence, all eyes shifting to look at her in surprise, did Lisa realize she had voiced her playful taunt out loud. So much for not drawing attention to herself and staying in the background as her cousins had instructed. What would Henri-Antoine think of her forwardness? What would Teddy’s family think? She dared not look his way. Her face felt hot; mortified, she lowered her lashes and looked at her hands in her lap.
“That is very true, Miss Crisp,” Jack agreed buoyantly, breaking the silence. And in an effort to make her feel comfortable again, and to relegate her outburst to the commonplace, he added with a grin, looking at his best friend, “Tokens or gifts, call them what you will, you have always been the most loyal and generous of men, Harry. And I raise my coffee cup to you.”
Henri-Antoine gave a short bow. “Perhaps you should reserve judgment until you see what is under the cloth. Though, before you unwrap it, I have one stipulation: This is to hang in your Mount Street townhouse.” He looked at Teddy, who had come to stand beside him. “Not to make you homesick, Teddy, but to make you more at home.”
Everyone leaned forward in their chairs as Teddy, with Henri-Antoine’s help, carefully removed the cord, and then peeled away the felt wrapping. What was revealed was a painting in a heavy gilt frame. It was a landscape, a morning scene, with a spectacular use of contrast between light and dark to capture the radiance of the dawn. Light filtered through trees and across the undulating hills of a Cotswold countryside in early spring, and drew the eye across the canvas to an Elizabethan manor house built from indigenous yellow stone that seemed to glow.
Granny Kate asked what those few at the table did not recognize, grumbling,
“Will someone enlighten this blind old lady what we are all looking at!”
Christopher quickly apologized to her, and in an under voice described the painting, while Teddy, after the initial shock of gazing at the most wonderful work of art she had ever seen, threw her arms around Henri-Antoine. Jack was out of his chair, and did likewise. Both had so many questions, as did the others around the table that Henri-
Antoine was urged to tell them everything he knew about the painting. But then Teddy looked to her stepfather and then at her mother, and finally at Henri-Antoine, and said with a knowing laugh.
“Ha! That gentleman you told me was a surveyor come to check the boundaries and do work for you at Brycecombe Hall, he wasn’t a surveyor at all, was he?”
Christopher smiled, a glance at Lady Mary. “He was not. I did wonder when you might enquire why a surveyor in a flamboyant black felt hat and carrying about a sketch pad did not have his waywiser with him. And as I recall, you were rather rude to him when he set up his easel and paints.”
“He wouldn’t show me what he was about,” Teddy countered with a pout. She looked to Henri-Antoine. “And it was you who sent this chap in the black hat to paint Abbeywood?”
“I commissioned Joseph Wright, yes,” Henri-Antoine told her.
“Good—Lord! Wright of Derby was down at Abbeywood?” Jack exclaimed. “This is too much. Too, too much, Harry,” he muttered, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the painting.
“It’s done now. And turned out rather nicely,” Henri-Antoine replied, points of color in his cheeks the only sign of his embarrassment at such an effusive response to his gift. “And Jack has the perfect place to hang it, Teddy. In the morning room, so you will see it at breakfast. The color palette is perfectly complemented by the curtains and wallpaper Jack chose.”
“I do? It does? I chose?” And when his family laughed, well aware it was Harry and not Jack who would’ve had the greatest hand in decorating the Mount Street townhouse, he blustered, “Yes! Yes! Perfect spot! Perfect spot for this marvelous creation.” He leaned in to his best friend and said under his breath, “Now I know why you made me keep the space above the sideboard clear…”
Teddy did not hear this aside because she had gone over to Lisa, pulled her out of her chair, and brought her to stand with her before the painting, a hand about her waist and holding her close.
Everyone followed her lead, and now the entire family, except for Lady Fittlewood who chose to remain beside Granny Kate and drink tea and give her a running observation, now stood in a semi-circle admiring the painting.
“What do you think of our painting, Lisa?” Teddy asked.
Lisa gazed at the landscape in oils.
“It is wonderful, Teddy, and Mr. Wright is a gifted painter. I see in this painting why you love Abbeywood so much. It is just as magical a place as Treat, but in a different way—in an untamed way, as God intended.”
“Well said, Miss Crisp,” Christopher Bryce agreed. “That is very true.”
Teddy put up her brows, and smiled at Lisa, a smile she knew well from their school days that indicated she was about to say or do something outrageous. It put Lisa on the alert, and she felt her smile widening in anticipation.
“Is this Wright of Derby a painter of significance?” Teddy asked with feigned wonder. “I can see that he is a superb craftsman, but I love Abbeywood, so anything to do with Abbeywood is wonderful to me, and I am the first to admit I know nothing of paintings, so I am not the best judge, am I?”
“Significant painter?” Jack repeated, almost shrilly. “Theodora! The man has exhibited at the Royal Academy. He painted The Orrery and An Experiment on a Bird in the Air Pump and—
Teddy shuddered. “Sounds frightful.”
“—in my opinion,” Jack added, warming to his topic, “is the greatest living exponent of chiaroscuro there is! Isn’t that so, Harry.”
“It is, Jack.”
“Chiar—oscuro, Jack?” Teddy enquired, another mischievous sidelong glance at Lisa. “Whatever is chiaroscuro?”
“It’s a painting term for a technique on how an artist uses light and dark to highlight the subject matter of his work,” Jack explained seriously, seemingly the only one who was unaware that Teddy was teasing him. Even Granny Kate heard the inflection in her voice, alerting her to Teddy’s playfulness. “If you look here, at the way he has managed to capture the contrast between the light and the shadow on the stonework—”
“Dear me, Sir John Cavendish,” Teddy interrupted. “I am staggeringly impressed. All those years wandering about abroad were good for something after all. You actually did ponder in front of paintings, when all the time I thought—”
“Teddy!” her mother cut in stridently.
“What? What did you think?” Jack demanded, face aglow at Teddy’s spreading smile. He said to Henri-Antoine, “What did you write in your letters home?”
“My dear fellow,” Henri-Antoine drawled, affronted, though his top lip twitched. “I have no idea what you or Teddy are talking about.”
Teddy and Lisa burst into a fit of the giggles at Jack’s red-faced embarrassment, and hugged each other. They could not help themselves. But no one minded. In fact everyone was all smiles to see these two friends so happy, and soon the girls had calmed, and were dabbing dry their eyes.
Christopher Bryce suggested they all remove to the drawing room, where the furniture had now been pushed to the walls and the carpet taken up in readiness for dancing.
Teddy grabbed Jack’s hand.
“Let’s tell her and everyone now, before the dancing.”
Jack nodded and smiled. “If that is your wish.”
“Jack and I have one last surprise for you,” Teddy declared.
She waited for her family to fall silent and look her way, then grabbed Lisa’s hand and drew her back to her side. She put her arm through Jack’s, and after looking up at him with a smile, announced, sandwiched between her husband-to-be and her best friend,
“Jack and I have made this decision together, and it is one we want you all to embrace. We hope it won’t come as a surprise to any of you, and we sincerely hope that after giving our decision due consideration, you will see that it is the best outcome for all of us.” She smiled at Lisa and then again addressed her family. “Jack and I have decided to begin our married life by sharing it with another, one who is like a sister to me in all but blood. Lisa is to come live with us, and be part of our life, and share in everything we do. Not as a companion, or a servant, or a dependant, but as one of us.” She looked at Jack and then impulsively kissed his cheek. “Of all the wedding presents Jack could possibly give me, this is the most wanted. We hope you will think so too.”
NINETEEN
IT WAS A gloriously sunny day without a cloud in the sky. The air was crisp. A light breeze rustled the tops of the trees. Swans glided along the surface of the lake. Children ran about playing and laughing on the gentle slope of the lawn, watched over by nurses and attendants, while their parents sat under marquees in the shade. Servants who had not drawn the short straw to be in attendance on their masters were at their leisure to enjoy a picnic lunch under their own marquee. Everyone was focused on the cricket match in progress on the south lawn. The Duke’s Eleven, captained by his son and heir, and comprising family members and household servants, were out in the field, while the Gentleman’s Eleven, captained by Lord Strathsay, and made up of a team of noble guests, had won the toss and elected to bat.
Lunch was called, just as the best batsmen for the Gentleman’s Eleven, Jamie Fitzstuart-Banks and Bully Knatchbull reached a fifty-run partnership. Both teams came off the field to great applause and joined the spectators for a well-earned feast and a welcome respite in the shade.
Lisa and Teddy, who were under the marquee closest to the field, were soon joined by members of the Gentleman’s Eleven—Lord Westby, Bully Knatchbull, Jamie Fitzstuart-Banks, and several of their teammates, Teddy’s two school friends, Vi and Meg, sweeping up to do their best to monopolize the time of those gentlemen they considered worthy of their attention. Notably absent from this group were Jack and Henri-Antoine, for although they were part of the Duke’s Eleven, Teddy had expected her betrothed to seek her out, and Lisa had hoped Henri-Antoine would do likewise, as she had not had a chance to speak with him since Teddy’s shock announcement to her family the night before.
Li
sa’s astonishment had been profound. She had no words, for Teddy and Jack’s generosity, for their family’s ready acceptance of her to be part of their lives, but most of all she had no idea what to say to Henri-Antoine. But before she could even turn to look his way, everyone swarmed forward to welcome her into the family and he had disappeared out into the night.
She could not remember dancing with Mr. Bryce or Jack, but she had. And she had danced with Teddy’s Uncle Charles, too. There was lots of laughter, and music, and everyone was so happy.
Later that night, when she and Teddy were drifting off to sleep, tucked up in Teddy’s bed, her friend had been so full of excitement for a future which now included her in all her plans, that Lisa did not have the heart to deflate her enthusiasm. She was in such a state of emotional turmoil she hardly knew what her future would hold.
Her predicament left her at a loss to know what to do or say, for anything she said or did would surely be misconstrued.
She had hoped to clear her thoughts with a good night’s sleep, which would allow her to be rational and formulate a plan. But the morning did not provide her with clarity or relief, and she was soon swept along in the wake of Teddy’s happiness. What could she say or do but join her and hope that an answer would present itself after the wedding ceremony, for she would not—for anything in the world—ruin Teddy and Jack’s big day. Resolved, she did her best to be involved, and to remind herself just where she was and whom she was with. The day was cloudless, the aspect of the monolithic Palladian house as backdrop to this summer idyll magical, and, all things considered, she had never felt prettier in her new floral gown, or happier, in the company of people who cared for her.
She had just handed off her plate to a footman and accepted a tumbler of iced punch when she was mentally shaken from her musings by a tall young man with a broad chest and a head of coal-black curls that fell about his handsome angular face. He looked familiar… She gave a start. She knew who it was, but although he had been pointed out to her while he was out in the middle of the field batting, only now, with him standing before her, did she finally recognize the friend from her school days in Chelsea. She was so happy to see him.
Satyr’s Son: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Family Saga Book 5) Page 29