Amanda Scott (19 page)

“I cannot think where Meriden has been these two days past, ma’am. Surely he has not deserted us entirely.”

Miss Lavinia looked up from her weeding. “I thought you knew,” she said. “Annabel … that is, his mama, and his sister Lady Filey arrived yesterday from Richmond. I am persuaded that they will claim his attention for several days yet to come, for he has not clapped eyes upon either one these seven months and more.”

“Good gracious, I quite forgot,” Emily said, looking back toward the house as she felt warmth creeping into her cheeks. “He did tell me that Lady Meriden was expected, and Lady Filey too. I just never thought about it again. Indeed, I am surprised he did not mention the other evening that they were arriving so soon. We ought to invite them to dine, surely.”

“I expect they will invite us,” Miss Lavinia said comfortably, getting to her feet and reaching back to rub the small of her back. “It is Annabel’s place, after all, since dear Sabrina is still in mourning and cannot be expected to entertain. We shall see them at the services tomorrow in any event.”

Her prophecies were entirely accurate, for the very next day the ladies of Staithes were invited to join Lady Meriden and her daughter for a nuncheon on Monday afternoon. Thus it was that Sabrina, Emily, Miss Lavinia, and Dolly, the latter excited at being included and dressed in her best white muslin, set out in Sabrina’s carriage shortly before noon.

“But I am tired of dark ribbons and sashes,” Dolly protested when Emily complimented her upon her appearance. “I long to wear pink and bright yellow again.”

Regarding her speculatively, Emily said, “Yes, pink would become you, I think, but not yellow, Dolly. It takes a particularly brilliant complexion to wear yellow, you know, and yours is so delicate, I daresay it would look a trifle insipid. Lavender would be better, or pale blue.”

“Ought to think of something more than her appearance, is what I say,” declared Miss Lavinia.

“Oh, dear,” Sabrina said, fluttering anxiously as she settled herself against the comfortable squabs of the carriage. “I am sure you are right, ma’am, but do not scold her just now, I beg of you. I am persuaded, dearest Dolly, that you would look charmingly no matter what you chose to wear.”

“Tell me about the dowager countess, Miss Lavinia,” Emily said quickly. “I know nothing about her. Indeed, though I am very nearly certain I have met Lady Filey somewhere or other, I cannot recollect her mama, and Meriden has said little about her other than that she enjoys living at Richmond.”

“Annabel don’t go about much,” said Miss Lavinia obligingly. She and Dolly occupied the forward seat, and she glanced at the girl as she spoke, as though she expected another comment from her. But Dolly remained silent, looking out the window at the passing scenery. Miss Lavinia looked again at Emily. “Never was one for cutting a dash, Annabel wasn’t. Fortunate, since Meriden’s papa was pretty well content to spend the entire year at the Park. They turned their daughters off in style, of course. Did the required Seasons in London, but that would have been a good while before you was there yourself, my dear. Filey and Janet are more fashionable about such stuff. Most of the year they spend here in Yorkshire, but they generally spend February through May in town. Daresay you’ll like Annabel. Comfortable soul, to my way of thinking.”

“Mama don’t think so,” Dolly said with a chuckle, turning to look at Sabrina.

Her mother bristled. “I am sure I have never said such a thing, Dolly. What can you mean?”

“Well, Lady Meriden always scolds you for one thing or another,” Dolly said. “You told me just before the carriage arrived that you wondered what she would find amiss this time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t say so, at all events,” Sabrina retorted. Looking defensively first at Emily and then at Miss Lavinia, she added, “I am sure you cannot wonder at it if I am a trifle nervous. Lady Meriden says whatever comes into her head to say, and you know that perfectly well, Miss Lavinia, if Emily does not. I assure you, she can be a tartar when the mood strikes her. Comfortable is not how I would describe her.”

Miss Lavinia said reflectively, “Daresay you don’t find comfort in uncomplicated conversation, but I do. Annabel don’t mash her thoughts up in fool attempts to be tactful. One need never guess at what she means, for she says what she means. I find that exceedingly comfortable after years of conversing with mealy-mouthed women who think the worst thing they can say is whatever they are thinking.”

“I hope,” said Sabrina, offended, “that you do not think me mealymouthed, Miss Lavinia.”

“Never said so, did I?” Miss Lavinia looked at her with a hint of a smile on her thin lips. “Daresay you don’t always say what you think, Sabrina, but you never wrap insults in sugar coating like some I can call to mind. You do try to find good things to say about people, but I doubt you ever say things you don’t believe to be true.”

Mollified, Sabrina said to Dolly, “I hope you will have the good sense to refrain from telling Lady Meriden that she makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps I do find her a trifle too outspoken for my own tastes, but I like Janet exceedingly well.”

“Oh, so do I,” Dolly agreed. “So cheerful, always, and such a merry laugh. It would be great fun to know her better.”

Almost immediately upon being introduced to Lady Filey in the elegant blue drawing room at Meriden Park, Emily found herself in full agreement with her niece.

“Oh, I remember you!” Janet exclaimed, squeezing her hand. “The most beautiful creature. I remarked upon it to Filey at the time, you know, telling him I would snap his nose off if he so much as mentioned your name to me later. I was so envious of your flaxen hair, for mine looks like it came straight off a mouse, and I have no countenance and no figure. And there you were, looking so absurdly young, with a shape like a willow, eyes like blue saucers, and hair I would kill to possess. You wore white muslin, of course, but it was trimmed with elaborate white silk embroidery—flowers all round the hem, with the pattern repeated on the edging of the sleeves and on the sash. It was a particularly wide sash, as I recall, tied right up under your breasts, and you wore pearls in your hair. Ravishing!”

“I remember that dress,” Emily said, smiling. “It was one of my favorites during my first Season. I wore it often, despite my sisters’ apostrophizing me for a dowdy.”

“Impossible,” said Jack, who stood beside his mother, a slender, elegant woman with iron-gray hair and his own gray eyes. “No one could ever have called you such a thing.”

“Sabrina did,” Emily said, rewarding him with a cool smile.

“Well, but no one would blame me,” Sabrina said. “You had more dresses than you could count, Emily. There was no need to wear any one of them more than once, twice at the most. You only wore that one because Stephen Campion was partial to it, and when he decided he could no longer tolerate your temper tantrums and offered for Melinda Harcourt, you never wore that dress again.”

“It wasn’t my temper,” said Emily hotly. “Stephen wanted Lady Melinda’s money.”

“Nonsense,” retorted Sabrina.

“I was wrong, Sabrina,” Miss Lavinia murmured when Emily, flushing deeply, glanced at Jack, then away again. “You don’t always look for good things to say to people. Annabel, how have you been keeping yourself?”

“I am quite fit, thank you,” said Lady Meriden, taking her seat in a high-backed wing chair near the hearth. “Do sit down, everyone. They will call us when our meal has been served. Janet, stop flitting about and sit down.”

“I thought Sabrina would like a cushion,” Lady Filey said. “Her chair is not as comfortable as some of the others.”

“She provides her own cushion,” the older woman said, adding with a critical look at Sabrina, who was still attempting to recover her composure after Miss Lavinia’s reproof, “I declare, you get plumper every time I see you, Sabrina. You really ought to exercise more and eat less. Young Dolly takes all the shine out of you these days, though you were thought to be quite as much a beauty as Emily in your younger days.”

Since Sabrina was as incapable of responding to this severe speech as she had been of responding to Miss Lavinia, Emily, taking pity on her, said calmly, “I was never so beautiful as Sabrina, ma’am, though I thank you for your kind words. I daresay Dolly will contrive to make the
beau monde
forget she ever had a mother or any aunts.”

“If I ever get to London,” Dolly said pettishly.

Meriden’s lips tightened. He had taken a seat near his mother but had said very little.

Lady Meriden looked at Dolly. “You are a good deal prettier without that scowl, but I daresay you know that, my dear. You will no doubt go to London next year.”

“I wanted to go this year so as to make my come-out at the same time as my friend Lettie Bennett,” Dolly said, careful not to scowl, “but Cousin Jack would not permit it.”

“Certainly not,” the dowager said. “I am sure that you would not wish people to think more about your improper behavior than about your beauty.”

“No,” said Dolly doubtfully.

“You will be the belle of the Season when you do go,” Janet said brightly. “Why, I daresay that all the young men will be clamoring for just one hint of your favor, my dear. I must insist that Filey take me to London in February so as not to miss a single moment of your come-out. No doubt Jack will want to give a ball for you at Meriden House.”

“No doubt,” said her brother dryly. “No, Dolly, we are not going to begin planning it this moment, though if you can contrive to behave yourself until then, something of that nature might well come to pass.”

Dolly’s eyes were shining now, and she looked toward her mama to see if Sabrina had heard the good news. But Sabrina appeared still to be lost in thoughts of her own, and revived only when, at the table, Janet demanded to know if it was not she who had promised to send her a recipe for damson-plum cake.

“Why, I daresay I did, for Cook prides herself upon her cake and I was used to serve it often in London. We have not had one this age and more, however, and I do not recall promising to send you the recipe.”

“But I am certain I asked you for it,” Janet said, “for I can remember that it just melted in one’s mouth. Have you ever tasted it, Jack?”

The earl disclaimed any knowledge of damson-plum cake, but Sabrina assured Janet that she would send her the recipe just as soon as she could persuade Cook to write it out for her.

The following day, when Sabrina announced self-consciously that she meant to walk to Meriden Park to deliver the cake recipe to Janet with her own hands, it occurred to no one to try to stop her. Nor did anyone suggest that she might simply send it to the Park with Jack, who had come to the Priory as usual. Emily, remembering the dowager countess’s unkind words regarding Sabrina’s weight, did not have to tax her mind to understand Sabrina’s reasons, and all Jack said was that she must take her maid with her, since she would be walking through the woods.

No one expected trouble, so it was with a great deal of shock that the household greeted her return, for she was escorted home by a furious Vicar Scopwick, who demanded at the top of his lungs that someone send at once for Meriden so that he could do something about the grievous trouble he had caused.

When Emily arrived upon the scene, she discovered that Scopwick had escorted her sister into the library and was kneeling beside the leather sofa where Sabrina reclined, coaxing her in a voice that Emily scarcely recognized as his own to take just a sip from the glass he was holding to her lips. William, Merritt, and the maid Anna hovered over the pair of them. Emily signed to the servants to leave, saying to the butler as they turned away, “You have sent for his lordship?”

“Yes, miss. Immediately upon their arrival.”

“Good. Leave us now.” She turned back to the vicar, who had made no attempt to rise, his whole attention being focused upon Sabrina. “What happened, sir? Is she injured?”

“Oh, Emily,” Sabrina moaned. “Those awful men attacked me.”

Emily stared at her. “What men? Where?”

“Wait until Meriden arrives,” Scopwick said curtly in his usual tone. “There is no need for her ladyship to repeat this dreadful tale. Here, ma’am,” he added, “you must drink this. It will make you feel a good deal better.”

“But I don’t like spirits,” Sabrina protested weakly, “and you are making my head ache, Mr. Scopwick. Do try to talk more softly if you can.”

“I am talking softly,” he said indignantly. “Now, don’t argue with me. Just drink this up. I promise you, you will feel much more the thing when you do. I’m a man of God, ain’t I? Would I advise you to drink brandy if I didn’t think it would do you good?”

“Oh, I cannot. I mustn’t.”

“Tilt it down her throat if you want her to have it, man,” recommended Meriden from the threshold, “but don’t coax her. She’ll only mutter and moan some more. What’s occurred here?”

Scopwick started at hearing the earl’s voice and inadvertently did just as he had suggested. Sabrina sat upright quickly, choking on the brandy, which necessitated the vicar’s administering a few sharp blows to her back to aid her in regaining her composure. Thus, Meriden had time to perch himself on the edge of the library table before Scopwick turned on him again. The look of amusement on the earl’s face faded abruptly, however, when the vicar demanded to know what he meant by subjecting Lady Staithes to such wicked treatment.

“Me! What the devil had I to do with anything? You tried to drown her in brandy, man, and as for what happened before, I’ve been here at the house all day, just as I usually am. And where’s her maid, I should like to know? Didn’t you take your woman with you, Sabrina? I certainly told you to do so.”

“Well, of course she did,” Scopwick retorted without giving Sabrina a chance to reply, “but the fool wench tripped over something in the road halfway back from Meriden Park and twisted her ankle, leaving her ladyship to run to seek help, and what happened next is that those two fool Runners of yours jumped out of the bushes at her and flung her to the ground. If I hadn’t heard her screams, God knows what they’d have done to her next.”

“Nonsense,” said Meriden calmly.