Anna Jacobs (14 page)

“Beatrice thinks he’s not serious-minded enough,” explained her mother, eyes twinkling.

“Justin?” Jennice screamed with laughter. “Oh dear, I must tell him! Such criticism has never been offered to him in all his life before! Most people simply fawn over him, whatever he says to them!”

“Don’t you dare say a word to him!” commanded her mother. “You’ll only embarrass poor Beatrice and you’ll put him in a fit of temper. In fact, if you breathe a word of any of this, we won’t let you help us at all.”

Jennice pulled a face. “Well, I wouldn’t really tell him, of course I wouldn’t - I’m not rag-mannered - but I can’t help wishing I could tease him just a little about it.” She sighed with regret at the delectable prospect of giving Justin Serle an unanswerable set-down, for he often teased her and usually won their verbal bouts.

After a few minutes’ more perusal she handed the dog-eared sheet of paper back to Beatrice. “What are you going to do if you can’t find anyone suitable?”

“I don’t know. You’ve no idea how I worry about that! I’ve met everyone on the list, well, everyone who is in town. I can hardly go round the countryside knocking at the doors of the rest of them, can I?”

“Let me see this again, Bea.” Jennice took back the list and studied it with a frown, counting something on her fingers, then she looked up at them with a triumphant smile. “I have an idea! A brilliant idea! Mama, you can’t say that Beatrice is enjoying her Season, can you? Even though she’s setting a new fashion in her own quiet way, I never saw anyone so uninterested in parties and balls. She might just as well not be on the market.”

“Don’t be vulgar, dear!”

Beatrice flushed. “Surely my feelings don’t show so clearly!”

Jennice grinned. “They may not show to others, but we know you a little better, my dear and we hear what you say after the parties.”

Beatrice turned to her kind hostess. “Johanna, it’s got nothing to do with you or your hospitality, really it hasn’t! You couldn’t have been kinder to me! I’m just - I’m not cut out for this sort of life. I prefer the country and - and real things.”

Johanna nodded gloomily, but reached across to pat her hand reassuringly. “I know, love.”

“Well, then,” said Jennice, positively beaming at them, “no less than three of the families listed here live near us, well, near enough to visit occasionally, and I know half a dozen other eligibles in our district alone who might suit Bea, even if Grandmamma didn’t consider them good enough to put on her list for Eleanor. And Boris is growing so impatient for me to return home that I suppose I’ll have to leave London soon. But it would be delightful to have some company, so why don’t you and Bea come back to Lymsby with us, Mama? Stay for a while. I promise to introduce Bea to dozens of eligible gentlemen!”

Johanna looked at her thoughtfully, then eyed Beatrice sideways. What Jennice hadn’t mentioned was that Melbury Park, the Serle demesne, was the next estate to Lymsby. It would be very interesting to see whether Justin followed them to the country - and how Beatrice reacted to that. “Why not?” she asked lightly. “What do you think, Bea? You keep saying you’re not fond of town life. We could go and spend a week or two with Jennice if you like.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” Bea exclaimed. Anything to avoid returning to the Dowager as a failure. The last missive from Satherby had contained another sharp query as to why none of the gentlemen on the list had yet been invited to the Abbey, not to mention why Beatrice had done nothing about herself, when Johanna reported a considerable interest being shown in her.

“We’ll do it, then!” said Johanna, who intensely disliked country life, but who intended to see how this comedy played itself out.

* * * *

They set off within the week, an impressive cavalcade consisting of a carriage large enough to carry four persons in extreme comfort, followed by the servants in another vehicle, among whom was an excited Tilly, who had to be told twice by Johanna’s Sarah to sit still and behave like a proper lady’s maid before she would stop jiggling around. The baggage followed in two more vehicles.

Lord Newthorpe, who had come up to town to escort them, chose at the last minute to ride with his groom in attendance, which Jennice said was a blessing since he was the most fidgety traveller in the world and never stopped criticizing the way the vehicle was being driven.

The journey into Hertfordshire was neither long nor onerous. Jennice sometimes talked as if she lived in a remote county, but actually, she was within less than three hours of the capital, and it was a pleasant drive at that. How pretty Hertfordshire was! Beatrice settled back to enjoy the scenery and allowed the others to gossip as they wished.

Lymsby Hall was a modern residence built by Boris’s grandfather, who had indeed made his fortune in tea, to the Dowager’s everlasting disgust, but who had also been the younger son of a perfectly respectable old county family. Boris’s parents were now dead, but he’d inherited their love of Lymsby and was a passionate landscape gardener when he wasn’t hunting, shooting or fishing.

Luckily for marital harmony, the neighbourhood wasn’t short of families with whom the young couple might enjoy a varied social life and there was a very pretty assembly hall in a nearby town where balls were held, which were quite tolerable, Jennice said, if one took one’s own party and kept away from the local shopkeepers.

Shown up to an elegant suite on the first floor, which looked out over the beautiful parklands surrounding Lymsby, Beatrice drew in a deep breath of pleasure. Surely no one could object to her going for long walks here? She could take Tilly with her, if necessary. She had by now grown quite fond of the girl and had to admit it was indeed necessary to have a lady’s maid when one was involved in as many social events as she had been over the past few weeks. She’d already decided to ask Tilly to stay on with her after her return to Satherby. The Dowager wouldn’t object, she was sure.

From what Jennice had been planning on the journey, there would seem to be no shortage of company near Lymsby. These plans had caused several squabbles with Boris before their departure, for he seemed to think his wife should take to her bed immediately upon arrival and stay there until after the baby was born.

Not until Johanna assured him that it was better for pregnant ladies’ health if they took regular exercise did he desist from his plans to immure Jennice in an overheated chamber, with several attendants at hand to prevent her from lifting even a fingertip.

Johanna listened patiently when he went on to discuss what kind of exercise would be safe. No, riding would not be at all suitable, but regular walks in the grounds would be just the thing for a lady in a delicate condition and also regular outings in the carriage to visit their friends and neighbours, for this would prevent the expectant mother from moping. Moping was the worst possible thing for ladies in Jennice’s condition.

Beatrice was obliged to hide her smiles as Boris was manipulated into agreeing to everything Jennice wished to do, while his young wife happily promised not to indulge in various activities she heartily disliked, such as tramping through the woods.

Jennice in the country was far more to Beatrice’s taste than Jennice in the town. They found interests in common in the running of a large house and the vagaries of servants, though her staff seemed to give her far more trouble than the servants at Satherby had ever given Beatrice. But then, Jennice seemed to thrive on crises, and if one were lacking, she was quite capable of creating some drama or other to add interest to the day.

The first week they were a little short of company, Jennice complained, and she sulked about that until Boris coaxed her out of her mood with the gift of a pretty new bracelet. Their social life developed rapidly after that, however, and soon there was a dinner party somewhere most evenings, or an impromptu hop, or an al fresco luncheon, or some other outing to enliven the day.

These casual country affairs were much more to Beatrice’s taste than the London events had been, but even so, she would have welcomed fewer of them and ventured to say so.

Jennice looked at her reproachfully. “Have you forgotten that one of the reasons we came here was so that you could meet some of the gentlemen on your list?”

Beatrice blushed and admitted that she had indeed forgotten it.

“Don’t you want to find yourself a husband as well as one for Eleanor?”

“Not someone only interested in my dowry.”

“Well what do you think of the Vicar as a potential husband? For you, of course, not for Eleanor. He’d be too old for her.”

Beatrice realized guiltily that she had nearly forgotten her mission for a few days in her enjoyment of the beautiful countryside around Lymsby. Her heart sank and she felt suffused with guilt. She was letting her aunt down once more. “I’m sorry, Jennice. I was just enjoying being in the country again.”

“And the Vicar?”

“No. I think he’s too old for me as well, and besides, I’ve never liked men with red hair.”

“No. That particular shade of bright ginger makes their complexions seem so washed-out, doesn’t it? Well, it does if they’re as pale as he is. Oh, well, we’ll just have to look further afield.”

Beatrice sighed.

* * * *

It was several days before Beatrice found out that Serle was their closest neighbour.

“Be good to have old Justin back,” said Boris one day over breakfast. He beamed at them all impartially, in the best of humours because one of his mares had just foaled.

Jennice nudged her mother.

Beatrice’s fork froze in midair. “Mr Serle? I was not aware - does he live nearby, then?”

“Next estate, if you don’t count the Thatchbule family,” said Boris indistinctly, his mouth full of kidneys. “And we don’t.”

“I - hadn’t realized he was so close.”

“How did you find out he was expected, Boris dear?” asked Jennice, all sweet innocence. She’d already known about it, but had kept quiet, wishing to see Beatrice’s reaction when surprised by the news. Actually, she’d have preferred Justin to have simply walked in on them one day. The shock of that would surely have caused Beatrice to betray her feelings. “I’d heard nothing.”

“Oh, my groom heard it from one of the Melbury grooms yesterday evening in the village alehouse. Justin will probably be here today.”

“Is he - has he brought anyone down with him ?” asked Johanna, since Beatrice was rearranging the food on her plate very carefully and showing no sign that she wished to participate in the conversation.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t usually. But I dare say he’ll hold a dinner or two while he’s here. He’ll probably ask you to act as his hostess, as he usually does, Jen, but you could do it instead, Mother-in-law. Jen’d better not tire herself with such things.”

Jennice pulled a face at him behind his back.

“We can get some shooting in, too,” he went on, still full of enthusiasm. “Justin’s woods are overrun by pigeons and he’ll have to do something about them or they’ll be moving into my coverts next! Of course they’re not as good eating as pheasants, but the tenants like them well enough.”

Beatrice grimaced, thus betraying the fact that she had been listening. She could never bear to see birds slaughtered, though the Dowager always gloated over the size of the bag and allowed favoured persons to shoot at Satherby during the hunting season, as long as they stayed elsewhere, for she detested holding house parties.

Boris turned to his guests, beaming. “You ladies may care to take a gun out with us one day, eh?”

Jennice looked pained. “Not in my condition.”

“I wasn’t considering you,” her spouse told her. “It’s obvious you couldn’t do anything like that now.” His eyes rested gloatingly on her stomach.

“Yes, I’m far too big to go clambering through the woods, aren’t I?” Jennice looked down at her increasingly pear-shaped figure with immense satisfaction. “It’s growing so quickly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t have twins.”

Boris paled. “Twins! Have you asked Dr. Sangler about that?”

“Good heavens, no! I was just joking. He’s such a fussy old bore I don’t mean to see him for ages yet.”

“What? Jennice, I gave strict orders that you were to consult him as soon as we returned!”

Jennice tilted her nose at him. “Well, I haven’t, my Lord, so there! I’m feeling perfectly well, thank you, and I don’t need to see a doctor!”

Boris stood up and thumped the table, shooting forgotten. “In that case, I shall fetch him myself this very day and make sure that you do see him! If you think, Madam, that I’m going to risk the life of my unborn son - “

“Or daughter,” put in Johanna, unable to resist the temptation.

“Daughter!” exclaimed Boris, scandalized. “We Newthorpes never have daughters first, I’ll have you know, or we haven’t for generations! Though I wouldn’t put it past my wife to do so, if only to spite me!”

Jennice tittered. “Well you can’t do anything about that, My Lord! Even a Newthorpe can’t dictate the sex of his offspring.”

“No, but I can see that you get proper attention while you’re in this condition. And what’s more, if you try to avoid seeing Dr. Sangler, I shall bring him to your room and hold you down myself while he examines you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“I shall lock the door.”

He folded his arms and took up a melodramatic pose. “I’ll break it down.”

Tears suddenly sparkled on Jennice’s lashes. “Oh, how can you be so cruel to me?” she asked, her voice breaking pathetically as she spoke. She sniffed delicately and applied a lace handkerchief to her eyes.

“Cruel? Is it cruel to care about your welfare?” demanded her outraged husband, not to be cajoled when such an important matter as his unborn son was at stake.

Johanna nudged Beatrice and they left the two lovers to continue their quarrel and reconciliation in peace and comfort. However, for once Boris had his way, and the afternoon saw the doctor’s gig bowl up to the door and that gentleman shown straight up to my lady’s bedchamber by Lord Newthorpe in person. Nor did the chamber door prove to be locked.