Finagled (12 page)

She made a mental note to ask George that evening and then went over some of the household accounts, familiarizing herself with how much food and clothing, and ultimately money, was needed each month. It was quite a lot, and she saw with pleasure that the servants were very well taken care of, in addition to reasonable wages, they had a goodly portion of cloth and food for their own use every month.

Everything was in a very good order. It was clear that Mrs. Lopple did a good job with the accounts. Ramona discussed it with her and they worked out a system for Ramona to take over certain aspects of the work. It was gratifying to know she would have something to do. She let Mrs. Lopple keep the keys, out of respect, until a new set could be made for her.

Ramona realized that even though there was a vast amount of work involved with running the large house, there were more than enough people dedicated to doing it, and her daily commitments were likely to be less than she had anticipated, having been used to her mother and their much smaller household.

Next Ramona discussed with the cook, a Mrs. Kettleborn, her specialties, and what foods George had a taste for. The woman clearly knew more of his tastes that she did, so she asked for a few simple additions and they went over a menu for the week. Mrs. Kettleborn was pleased that Ramona so valued her input. The young Duchess was quickly making allies among the staff.

When all of that was handled, she found herself with a free afternoon. Ramona decided to explore the house on her own. She had a general idea of direction from looking out of the windows at intervals, and was not too worried about losing her way during the day. It was a clear, crisp afternoon, winter seemed to dominate the air more than autumn, and the bright, flat, white sky sent a cold light into the long hallways of Loathewood Manor.

She had felt a bit ostentatiously dressed, sitting in the kitchen going over menus or in the Mrs Lopple's sitting room discussing accounts, but in the grand halls and ornately carved rooms of the manor, she felt almost as if she were underdressed. Everything was so much larger, older, and more expensive than anything she had ever encountered before. Some of the rooms looked positively medieval and she felt as if she were traveling through time to pass their threshold.

She felt an overwhelming emotion that accompanied the knowledge that this was now her home. A time would come when she would be used to this grandeur. Would Loathewood ever cease to amaze her? She determined to never let it. She did not want to become someone she was not, a Duchess looking down her nose at simpler things. She remembered the days when she had played that part, as a child, with her young female cousins and herself taking turns being some Duchess or other they had heard their parents gossiping over, even emulating the Queen, at times. The memory youthful silliness came back to her and she found herself bubbling over with unexpected delights.

She cut her giggling short as she heard a shuffle of feet in the hall. Her first reaction was mild embarrassment. It was probably a servant and she had probably surprised them as much as they had her. She quietly went to the doorway and peered out. She could not help but startle at the sight of her new nephew turning a corner, quickly.

She felt inclined to follow him. She did not know what business he might have in this area of the house, but imagined it was just as much as she had herself. Perhaps there was some spot around that he liked the view of, or some secret hiding place he liked to visit. There was no reason for her to narrow her eyes suspiciously, but this was what she found herself doing. She shook it off as a side effect of the embarrassment she felt at having been caught in the midst of a giggle fit.

She purposefully walked slowly, following the path he had taken, giving him time to get away if that was what he wished. She reached the main stairwell with relative ease, and felt a bit proud of her sense of direction. She by no means knew her way around the large house, but she had some idea of what wall to follow if she felt befuddled.

The rest of the afternoon was somewhat lonely. She realized then why her mother and aunt were so fond of embroidery, though she had previously found it to be  a somewhat slow and tedious task. She found her own embroidery materials, unpacked by one of the wingback chairs in her room. It was somewhat funny to see them laid out for ready use, and she imagined that it meant that Melanie had not been the one to unpack for her, that girl knowing that those rarely used materials in the bottom of her trunk were usually pressed into the lowest drawer of her writing desk , stuffed in their basket underneath her bed, or otherwise kept out of sight unless it was nearing the Christmas season and she found a need to manufacture a pillow or privacy screen for some relative or other who had admired a piece of her stitching that hung on the wall.

She was not useless at the craft, she just found that it was boring and actually quite impractical. The pillows she decorated were often too small to interest a cat, and she had no taste towards the frumpy inclination for pretty and useless clutter as decoration that so many of her elders seemed to thrive on. The more oxygen being taken up by a group of overdressed matrons and their poodles, the more space they stuffed with things and googas, taking up every inch of table and most of the settees with pillows and tassels and porcelain kittens.

She sat down in the wingback chair by the fire and surveyed her little basket of craftery. She had, some time ago, well before she even met George, started embroidering a fan. A number of peacocks in front of a fountain scene, it had been intended for a distant cousin who lived in the country and always delighted over the rich things that Ramona owned and wore. It was not quite to Ramona's taste, but it at least had some purpose and she had spent a bit of time on it before she had been swept up by her Aunt Tirinia to so many balls and soirees. She realized now with a mind to finagle George into asking for her hand. She had meant to have it finished in time for the cousin's birthday, which had just passed three weeks before. She felt a twinge of annoyance with herself for having neglected the piece, then decided that Christmas was not too far distant and her cousin, who had attended her wedding, though they had not had time to talk, would still appreciate the gesture.

Working on the fan and watching the fire on the grate was sleepy work. Ramona found herself dozing with the horrid thought that this could be the whole rest of her life right here, avoided by her husband, doing idle embroidery and making unnecessary suggestions to the capable cook for a weekly menu. It was simply too boring. She must ask George what he wanted her to do with her time. There must be something more to being Mistress of Loathwood Manor than handicrafts and how many sides to serve with dinner.

She shook her head. She had overstitched several colors and had to pick them out.

With a heavy sigh she stood up and put her embroidery aside. She could work on the plans for the party as far as decorations went. Many of the thoughts she had hinged on getting George's approval for a weekend affair, but there was almost certainly going to be a ball. She dug around in her writing desk and found her sketchbook and drawing pencils, another ladylike and somewhat neglected craft that she would probably find herself engaging in more now that she was a wife.

She took the sketchbook and pencils downstairs to the high ceilinged ballroom, and drew a few lines to represent the columns and windows in the tall and ornate room. She filled the space on her paper with plants, flowers, and draperies. The tip of her pencil in her mouth, she finagled the details until she had them nearly perfected, and then admired her handiwork.

Tearing the page from the sketchbook, she took it to Mrs. Lopple to get started on the more practical arrangements, such as locating plants and flowers and having the proper fabrics and so forth brought in to properly outfit the place.

She did not have much time that evening to go over her ideas with George. She discussed it somewhat lightly over dinner, she even tried to bring Andrew into the conversation, but she found both males distracted and marginally disinterested. She did secure approval from George for a weekend party, complete with hunting, and dinner as well as dancing. He told her she didn't need to ask for his input on any of the details. He was sure to like whatever she had planned.

Andrew seemed to watch her with more interest than he had before, perhaps really seeing her for the first time. She was just as close to his age as she was to George's, young and well made, and it had probably been a long time since he had seen a lady of his own station. She felt mildly uncomfortable as he followed her with his eyes. She could not decide how to dissuade the interest he seemed to be taking in her, but she was not worried overmuch. He was a gentleman, if a young one, and he was probably just developing a harmless crush on her.

When Ramona went to bed that evening  she hesitated at the panel between the two bedrooms,. She considered knocking, but decided against it. She must not seem too forward, to seek him out, let him be the one to make the next move. She had fixed upon some small plan of ignoring him, but now that she was in her darkened room, dressed in a soft, satin nightgown, she felt all tingly and desirous of his company, in much the same way she had enjoyed it the night before. Though she had thought of their night together throughout the day with a smile, the feelings she had felt had not risen up in her as they did now, with just the thin wall separating them. She climbed into her bed and slept fitfully.

George did not seek her out this night, or on any other night over the next few weeks.

Ramona found ways to keep busy with the planning of her party. There were sumptuous meals to devise, with the help of recipes her mother's cook had written out to share with the cook at Loathewood, such as Ramona's favorite meals and some of the cook's own specialties. They were somewhat more exotic than the usual country fare, and while Mrs. Kettleborn made a show of distrust, she was secretly excited to expand her gravy repertoire.

Things were going well. Ramona spent sometime everyday taking a walk around the house and familiarizing herself with it, sometimes enjoying the paths around the grounds and the somewhat desolate garden. She enjoyed, most of all, the hot house full of vibrant flowers, not terribly exotic, but certainly suitable for decorating the ballroom. She had initially hoped to send for flowers from London, but the cost of getting them intact was somewhat ridiculous and she did not want to ask George for such an amount just for flowers. When Mrs. Lopple showed her to the hot house, she was delighted. It was not quite what she had initially envisioned, but the freshness of the flowers made up for any lack of elegance.

She determined which rooms were best for guests and made out her invitations with Mrs. Lopple's assistance. She met with and inquired into many of the staff concerning their opinions on rooms and stabling, which horses were good for the lady guests and what men in the neighborhood were likely to ride their own steeds over. Everyone she spoke with was charmed by the value she placed on their input.

By the time she received acceptance from all but 3 of the households invited, almost everything was in readiness for the weekend affair.

George had kept very busy during this time himself. Over dinner Ramona would occasionally ask for his help in sundry matters concerning the party and in a day or two, she would find whatever problem she was having resolved, without much word from her husband himself. She tried to find a happiness in her own busyness, and the fact that George said he was working extra hard of late to assure that he could have a free weekend to entertain their guests. He said he expected much of his work to fall off soon, as he was often being called out by tenants who wanted the attention more than any actual business with him. They were running out of convincing excuses to need him. It would even out, he said, and he would be at home much more.

Ramona and the servants shared in a buzz of excitement, and she found their company incredibly fulfilling. She could just imagine how her mother would fret if she knew that Ramona so often took tea with Mrs. Lopple in that distinguished housekeeper’s sitting room, the times spent giggling with the young maids as they worked on draperies together from the recently acquired fabrics, the enjoyment she took in the old stablehand Pete and his stories of a young and rambunctious Master George.

Andrew,  she saw a bit more of than she had anticipated, and the way she would sometimes catch him in the shadows startled her. He seemed to get along with George amazingly well, though, and it gave her a warm feeling that George and his heir-apparent were so close. Andrew went out with George on his rides around the lands quite frequently and the conversations around dinner became quite genial, as Andrew became more comfortable with Ramona's presence there. Though he rarely addressed her with anything but his eyes, he no longer acted sullen or disinterested in the questions that George set to him, and she decided that would be enough, for now.

She began to enjoy their little family circle. Ramona felt that she could be happy here, with this life, though it had not been what she had wanted originally. If she did not fall asleep in the arms of her husband or wake up to the cries of her children, she also did not cry herself to sleep anymore, or wake up feeling a cold loneliness.

On the first morning of the weekend party, Ramona woke up with an anticipation of excitement. Guests were set to arrive throughout the day and she had arranged for a variety of amusements to keep them distracted before the ball that was to take place that evening. Ramona dressed with care and she and George welcomed the guests into Loathwood.

Arriving early was a family with two daughters, aged 13 and 16, the Toilingwoods. Their mother, Augusta, had previously hoped that she could secure George for her eldest daughter, but had not held up much hope since he had all of London society to pick from, and she could barely get her husband to take the girls in for the season without excessive grumbling. It was difficult to have hard feelings against Ramona when clearly the fault was entirely Lord Toilingwood’s. The daughters were named Moira and Flavia respectively, and they were not bad looking girls. Moira, the younger, had a plump little figure that was not unappealing and her elder sister, Flavia, had a lovely complexion and unusually attractive red hair.

Normally girls of this age might not be invited to a house party of this sort, but it was an introduction to a new member of the household and there were to be a number of young and eligible men around, including George's own nephew and heir, Andrew. He was a bit young for marriage, and everyone expected he would soon be supplanted as heir  by the fruit of the Duke and Duchess’ union, but for the moment, he was worth considering, at least for the younger girls who had time yet to consider.

Next two more families with small, neighboring estates who were sharing a carriage came. The ladies were, in fact, sisters, though one had been widowed and lived with her young son, who had not accompanied his family to Loathwood. These guests were Mrs. Juniper Gollywhopper,  her sister and brother in-law, Alyssa and Carbon Cropplefloop, and their son, Alexander Cropplefloop, a 17 year old boy.

The rest of the guests arrived fashionably late in the afternoon.

Thomas and Maryann Machardly and their son, Phineas. Thomas was a burly man with impressive side-whiskers and a monocle dangling from his waistcoat. When someone said something to him, be it of interest or no, he would raise the monocle and peer at them silently. He rarely spoke, except in large, boisterous "Ahem!s" & "Oho!s" Maryann was a bit younger than her husband, with somewhat frazzled looking blonde hair and a nervous tic, which usually manifested when her husband made a loud exclamation. Phineas was much taller than either of his parents and smelled mildly of stewed carrots. He had a beautiful singing voice and was quite popular with the young ladies present.

Churley McAdams was an old bachelor. He lived in a rather large estate with fifteen cats and a skeleton retinue of servants. He carried with him a selection of state of the art photographic equipments and twirled a moustache with a big smile on his face whenever anyone asked to see his prints.

Latimer and Nan Garboffle were a couple who had already disposed of their children in somewhat successful matrimony. Their sense of the proper and prim had gone out with their children and they spent a great deal of time giggling and looking for a large palm plant to engage in marital congress behind. If one saw some fronds a-wiggling, it was best to look the other way.

Seamus and Lorna Hardlyever and their daughter, Sheila, were a very small family, they had small eyes, small feet and small little ears. Small wrists and small waists and small wiggling bottoms.  Otherwise they were somewhat otherworldly in their attractiveness. They had very nice, if somewhat high and quiet voices and generally amused with their tales of the "Old Country" as they called it, the land from which they had imported themselves. They smiled a lot and all three of them drank and ate more than it seemed possible to contain in their little frames.

Marcus Howard was an incredibly handsome and unattached young man. His hair was quite pale and his features quite exquisitely chiseled. He was exactly the type that Ramona would have felt moony over in her more youthful days just 6 months prior. He dressed better than almost anyone else attending and he had a charm and wit that were hard to resist. Immediately he bowed over Ramona's hand and made her feel slightly light-headed. It gave her a small sense of pleasure that George seemed to greet him cooly after this gesture.

It seemed that everyone had arrived and George and Ramona made themselves less available to the front door and more available to their various guests who were milling about in the public rooms, conversing, drinking and generally amusing themselves with conversation and games. Ramona went around again and made the small talk with everyone, making sure that they were charmed by her clever witticisms and general goodwill.

A heavy knock at the door made them wonder if perhaps they had forgotten that someone was coming, or if perhaps someone who had sent their regrets had decided to accept after all. Without much concern, Ramona turned to see the arrival of their final, and completely unexpected guest.

Ramona approached easily, but George seemed in a bit of a rush to meet the new arrival himself. It was a woman, dark haired and elegant, with very clear skin and strong bone structure. Ramona could not help but feel that she was somehow familiar. She laughed as George spoke to her, and he did not return the laughter, but seemed somewhat tense. Ramona approached.

"Ah, so here she is then?" the woman said, with a pointed smile.

"Yes, yes, Ramona, darling, this is Andrew's mother, Regina Flanders."

"I... yes, of course. I can see the resemblance. Welcome." Ramona inclined her head, trying to keep the surprise from her face, remembering that the vague rumors that Tirinia had shared with her may very well be completely untrue. It was said that this woman ran out on her dying husband and baby son, after ruining them financially, twelve years ago, and that she had had nothing to do with the family since. George had never spoken of Regina, except in passing, usually to Andrew, and Ramona had felt no desire to pry into what might be a painful memory that really did not concern her at all.

"Well, I am sure that we can have a room made up for you. We are having a weekend party. You are most welcome." Ramona said, diplomatically.

"Yes, of course," George said, smiling somewhat tersely.

"I should like my old room it is not inconvenient, and then... I should like to see... my son?" her smile widened. It looked quite forced and made Ramona feel slightly uncomfortable.

"It shouldn’t be a problem, should it George?" Ramona asked.

"No, though that part of the house is rarely used, and the rooms have not been aired, it should be hospitable by this evening."

"Thank you. Now. Andrew?" she looked around the room, seeing several young men, but not being able to tell her son among them, though he was by far the youngest and it should have been evident. She stayed where she was.

"I will fetch him," Ramona offered, she inclined her head slightly and went to collect the boy.

Unsure how to state herself, she simply said, "There is someone here who would like to speak to you," and "Excuse me" to the group of boys who Andrew had been conversing with.

Andrew followed her with an easy air, expecting an introduction, perhaps to one of the young women there who he had not yet met, and at first when he saw the woman standing with his Uncle, he was not perturbed, she kept her face slightly away from him, and her slender form looked like that of a teenager, but then George moved slightly, and Andrew saw her face. It was not recognition from his childhood, this woman was basically nothing to him, it was not photographs or paintings he had seen, for he had seen none, it was her very bone structure, so much like looking in a mirror, that startled him and slowed his step. He still did not believe it.

"Hello?" his voice quavered a bit.

"Andrew," Regina almost gasped, "oh Andrew, you look so like your father."

George shifted slightly away from the boy, who had come to stand near him.

"Andrew, Regina, perhaps we should withdraw somewhere more private?" George said.

A few eyes were turned towards them, a peculiar silence followed by a quick whispered voices.

"Please, attend to our guests, dear," George said to Ramona. He led Regina and her son from the room.

Ramona felt a bit piqued, but then, with a steadying breath, remembered that this was a family problem that preceded her, and none involved would be comfortable with her presence, besides which, there were a number of people who seemed suddenly without something to do.

Alyssa Cropplefloop approached Ramona and gave her a long look. "Well," she said, "that was a face I was not expecting. However did you find her to invite her? I will refrain from asking why. It is probably about time she came and owned up to abandoning that poor boy, of course George has done a wonderful job with him." she fluttered and put a hand on Ramona's sleeve.