Marjorie Farrell (14 page)

“It is the viscount’s hospitality you are enjoying, Mrs. Dillon,” Lavinia answered.

“Yes, but you might have kept away.”

“But I was convinced, although I admit I had my doubts at the beginning, that forbidding the betrothal would be the best way to intensify the attachment.”

“And I still believe that myself,” Nora said with a sigh, “but I am not sure I see any signs they are having second thoughts. Miranda has spoken to me about her fears that she could never manage a household the size of Fairlawn, let alone Alverstone. But she said Jeremy had convinced her she would make a fine countess.” Nora smiled ruefully.

“I must tell you, Mrs. Dillon, that before I met you and your daughter, I was convinced you could be nothing but vulgar fortune-hunters. But although I am still opposed to the match, it is only because of the differences in station. Miranda is a lovely girl, and you can be proud of her. But she is not the wife I want for my son,” Lavinia finished, almost apologetically.

“I appreciate your plain speaking, Lady Whitford. And I stayed to ride with you precisely so I could reassure you, as I have the viscount, that a wedding will never take place. Should Miranda and Jeremy not end their betrothal, I will forbid it. I agree with you. The Earl of Alverstone could never marry an unknown.”

Lavinia should have been pleased, but as they kicked their horses into a slow trot, making further conversation difficult, she had to admit she was beginning to feel some sympathy for the young lovers. Miranda was lovely, and one would never have guessed she was not wellborn. It was a shame, she thought to herself, she is not from a good family, for I would not have minded her as a daughter-in-law were things different. Lavinia smiled to herself at this about-face. Mrs. Dillon most certainly seemed sincere about her intentions to forbid Miranda Jeremy’s company, and provided with that assurance, Lavinia was able to relax her own objections and imagine what might have been. Well, we must have been right to begin with, she realized, if such categorical statements make one immediately consider the opposite possibilities.

The two women returned home almost in charity with one another, and certainly without the tension that had been present in their first two encounters. Lady Lavinia, having rested and ridden, two of her favorite occupations, was her most charming self at the dinner table. And she is charming, thought Sam, remembering his
tendre
for her. Nora caught the look on his face and wondered if the viscount’s devotion to Jeremy’s interest came from a devotion to his mother. She felt a pang of something like jealousy, but dismissed it so quickly that she gave herself no time to examine it or wonder why she should feel jealous of the countess.

* * * *

The next day, the riding lesson was in the morning, for the duke and his family were to arrive for luncheon. Miranda rode in the paddock: only, so Jeremy could correct her seat, her hands on the reins. “Everything,” she said despairingly, “I’m doing everything wrong.”

“No, no, you have wonderful balance, you are a natural rider, and will be quite accomplished in short order.”

“Well, then, give me only one thing at a time to concentrate on, Jeremy, I can’t keep it all in my mind at once,” she replied with some asperity.

“I’m only trying to help,” he said, with some justifiable annoyance.

“But you are ‘helping’ too much.”

“If that’s the way you feel, then I don’t know how I am to teach you.”

Sam, who was watching the lesson, tried to hide his grin as he stepped in.

“Jeremy, would you make sure the groom has cleaned out the right stalls for Simon’s team? I will watch Miranda while you do.”

“All right, but don’t bother trying to help her, for she’ll just ignore you,” Jeremy grumbled as he stalked off.

Miranda pulled her mare up short, and watched him in amazement and anger.

“I didn’t ignore him, my lord, truly, but he kept giving me ten directions at once, and I am, after all, only beginning. I never knew he could be so infuriating!”

“Well, I learned a long time ago never to try to teach anything to one you love.” Sam smiled. “I think I had better take over the riding lessons. Now, let me see you go around once more.”

By the time Jeremy had found the groom and discovered that “Of course everything is ready for ‘is grace, m’lud,” Miranda and Sam were walking back to the house. She was moving a bit stiffly, and Jeremy, grinning in sympathy, caught up with them.

“I say, Miranda, I am sorry for browbeating you.”

Miranda smiled at him. “That is all right, Jeremy. The viscount and I decided he would take over the lessons to keep us friends.”

“I remember your father and me vying for the privilege of teaching your mother to drive a pair. We had her in tears one day, until she finally got the Baron Blakeney to do it, leaving us behind.” All three were laughing at Sam’s reminiscence as they walked up to the house, and Nora, who was just coming down the stairs, was almost ready to declare her plan a fiasco, then and there.

The duke and his family arrived about an hour earlier than expected, and only Nora was around when the coach pulled up. She watched as a small woman, rather plain-looking, got out and lifted out a little girl. The child was about two, and had the palest of skin, and dark red curls. Nora guessed the small woman was the child’s nurse and waited with some curiosity to see what the duke and duchess were like, but the only other person to step out of the coach was a tall, rangy man dressed comfortably in corduroy, who seemed to be looking off to the left of the house. Unless they had sent their servants ahead of them, this appeared to be the duke and duchess.

The duchess picked up her little girl, who had immediately squatted down to examine the stones in the driveway, and then gave her arm to her husband. As they moved up the stairs, Nora realized with as shock that the duke, who had been handed a cane by his groom, was using it as a guide to the height of the steps. The viscount had never mentioned the duke’s blindness. Now, added to her trepidation about dealing with high-ranking intimates of the family was added the worry of how to act with a blind person.

She quickly realized she was the only one available. The viscount had ridden off on an errand, Lady Lavinia was having one of her many beauty naps, and Miranda and Jeremy were bathing and changing from the riding lesson. She could not let the duke and duchess go to their rooms without being greeted by someone other than a servant, so she went down the stairs to the front hall
.

The duchess looked up at her, and then, with that extra sense that mothers have, turned to her daughter, who was just about to pop a bit of driveway gravel into her mouth.

“No, no, Sophy, give the pretty stones to Mama.”

The child surrendered them happily and the duchess oohed and aahed over the treasures before she folded them up in her hand.

Nora walked right over to her and without thinking said, “How old is she? Just about two, I would guess, or she would not have surrendered so easily!”

The duchess smiled. “I have heard that the third year is a stormy one. You sound experienced, Mrs…?”

“Oh, goodness, I am sorry. I am Honora Dillon and am visiting with my daughter Miranda. I am afraid my experience with small children is way behind me,” she replied wistfully.

“I am Judith Ballance, and this is my daughter Sophy, and my husband, Simon.”

Nora turned to the duke, who had his hand extended. She shook it and said:

“I must apologize, your grace, for being the only one to greet you, but I believe the viscount was expecting you a bit later.”

The duke smiled. “Yes, I know, but Sophy was up early this morning and we wanted to give her lunch and put her down for a rest before the adults sat down. We find ourselves following her schedule more often than not. I fear we are too indulgent, and we apologize.”

“Not at all,” Nora replied. “The viscount has ridden over to a tenant’s, and everyone else is resting or recuperating from my daughter’s riding lesson. Nellie, could you show the duke and duchess to their rooms,” Nora said to the housekeeper, who had come up behind her.

Judith murmured her thanks and the family walked up the stairs slowly behind their daughter, who was ascending by herself, leading always with her left foot, thus slowing down the process even more. Nora remembered Miranda’s insistence on climbing alone, and marveled at the couple’s willingness to allow their daughter so much freedom. As soon as they got to the top, Nora hurried down the hall and knocked on Miranda’s door.

“Come in, Mother. Was that a carriage I heard in the drive?”

“Yes, the duke and duchess are here.”

“So early?”

“Yes, they seem to follow the little Lady Sophy’s schedule! I suppose that is what one must call her,” mused Nora, “Lady Sophia, although they do not seem to be high in the instep.”

“What are they like?” Miranda asked nervously.

“The duchess is small and rather plain from a distance, although she is much more attractive close up. The duke is tall and quite good-looking…and blind,” Nora added.

“Blind?”

“Yes. The viscount didn’t tell us that, did he? But from the little I saw, they paid no heed to it. I would think the best way to go on would be to ignore it, unless it is necessary to do otherwise.”

* * * *

Luncheon was quiet, and after introductions and a few moments of stiff politeness, it became clear it was not necessary to stand on ceremony with the duke and duchess. Lady Sophy was in bed. “For a few hours, if we are lucky,” commented her mother, thus the duchess was able to give her attention to her meal and to her husband. Although, thought Nora, aside from a quiet description of the table and the location of food on his plate, there was no need to hover over him. It became increasingly clear that he was uncannily good at identifying speakers and looking at them as though he could see, and he had none of the mannerisms that Nora had seen in people blind from birth. She soon forgot about his limitations and found herself enjoying his conversation, which ranged from the weather and the state of the wheat to mutual acquaintances in Hampstead. The duke and duchess began discussing politics at one point, but Lavinia vetoed the topic immediately.

“I know you are eager to continue, but can we not have one meal with merely frivolous conversation?” she said lightly, and Nora caught a glimpse of the charmer she must have been twenty years ago. Simon apologized, and Sam promised that they would confine their talk to the library.

“Do you have a nurse for Lady Sophy, your grace?” Nora asked, intrigued by the fact that the duchess seemed to take responsibility for her daughter.

The duchess looked blank for a moment and then laughed. “Oh, dear,” she confessed, “I wasn’t sure of whom you were speaking. I am so unused to hearing her called by her title. Why, yes, we do have a nurse. But when we are at home, I tend to rely on her less than I do in town, when I am so much busier entertaining.”

“You are wise, I think, although perhaps not fashionable,” Nora said, “to spend so much time with her now, for these early years go by so quickly. It seems such a short time ago Miranda was that age.”

The duchess agreed, and wondered to herself about Mrs. Dillon. There was something about her that suggested she came of a good family, and yet, as the viscount had described her in his letter of invitation, she was only the widow of a naval lieutenant. It will be an interesting visit, Judith thought.

* * * *

After the first day, it was clear the house party was to be successful. Depending, of course, on one’s definition of success, thought Sam ironically. Mrs. Dillon and Miranda became quite comfortable with Simon and Judith. They rode and picnicked and entertained some of the viscount’s neighbors. Jeremy and Miranda were getting on famously, and Miranda became more and more comfortable with the size of the house. Judith was partly responsible for this, for she and Miranda became quite friendly. Although the duchess and Nora had motherhood as a common bond, Miranda and Judith were closer in age, and had similar futures in front of them. Nora found herself drawn into conversation with the viscount and the duke. It was clear they were political allies, and their views were close to hers. And the duke had quite won her heart after dinner one night when he said he’d heard she was a novelist.

“Yes, your grace.”

“Would I have come across one of your works, do you think? My wife and I are avid readers, you know. Do you write under your own name?”

“Yes, although at one time I was tempted to become Artemis Meade.”

Simon could not help himself. He laughed out loud and then immediately apologized. “I am sorry, Mrs. Dillon, but from the little I know of you, ‘Honora Dillon’ fits you better than ‘Artemis Meade.’ But I know many authors use pseudonyms.”

The duke’s comment reminded her that “Honora Dillon” was also a pseudonym, and she was silent for a moment.

“You are not offended?” Simon asked anxiously.

“Oh, no, your grace. And since my novels are of the Minerva Press variety, I doubt you and the duchess have read them.”

“Ah, a writer of romance, then? Well, we have an expert on romance in our household, Mrs. Dillon. My reader, Mr. Wiggins, devours them. I will have to ask him about you when we return to London. I understand you have met quite a few literary well-knowns. My wife and I would love to hear your views on them. We envy you your literary life,” Simon said, and Nora could tell he was uttering only a slight exaggeration of the truth. It was clear that the duke and duchess had a real love for literature, and would probably enjoy a literary evening over a ball.

The duke and Nora found time for many such conversations, for when out riding, he tended to keep her company.

“I know what it is like to be a slow-top,” he joked.

“I hate to hold the rest back, but I have not ridden for so long that I wish to start slowly. Of course, my daughter has not ridden before at all, and there she is, outriding her mother,” Nora said with great pride mixed with a bit of jealousy. “But do not feel you have to stay back with me.”