Tea and Scandal (16 page)

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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

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Surely you

re joking!


She thinks Nigel will inherit Wildercliffe if I die. But no, I do not think she would go this far. Seafood often disagrees with me. No doubt that is the culprit. I

m feeling better now. Go back to bed, Jane.

Jane said,

I shall just sit with you until you doze off.

She poured a glass of wine to while away the early morning vigil. When her aunt was sleeping peacefully, Jane returned to her own room.

She slept in the next morning. Fay was at the table, looking a little hagged after her troubled night but by no means ill, when Jane came downstairs.

In fact, Fay had a full plate of gammon and eggs sitting in front of her. After eating only a little, she said,

Oh dear. I feel the nausea coming on again!

and fled from the table.

She was soon back. She was not sick to her stomach on that occasion, but Jane was concerned about her.

Let me call the doctor,

she said, two or three times, until Fay agreed.

Fay retired to her bedchamber, and Jane brooded over a cup of coffee until Dr. Cassidy arrived. Jane accompanied him to her aunt

s bedchamber, but was dismissed while he made his examination.

Jane rushed out to meet him when he came downstairs.

Is my aunt all right?

she asked.


She is fit as a fiddle,

he said.

She should get plenty of rest, take daily exercise outdoors, weather permitting, and limit her drinking of wine.


I shall see that your orders are followed,

Jane said, happy to have her own ideas of a healthy regimen confirmed by an expert.


At her age, one cannot be too cautious. But she

s fine. I foresee no difficulty.


She

s not that old,

Jane said, surprised.

He gave a frowning pause.

She

s not so young as she might be. Well, I am off to see Mr. Willis. He nearly severed a finger in a sawing accident yesterday. Good day, Miss Lonsdale. I shall look in on your aunt from time to time. Be sure to call me if there is any trouble.

She thanked him, and accompanied him to the doorway.

Lady Pargeter was up and about by lunchtime, with no apparent ill effects from her bout of nausea. It was the day Jane was to go to Bibury with Mr. Swann, but she felt she ought not to leave her aunt alone. When she mentioned this to Fay, her aunt overrode her.

“Run along, Jane. I’m delighted to see you and Swann hitting it off. I have plenty to occupy me, arranging my dinner party. I shall put it off a few days. It seems almost impolite to return the invitation so soon, as if one did not want to be in arrears. Having them back so soon gives it the air of a duty, rather than a pleasure. I plan to enjoy my little dinner party. Lord Malton promised to drop in this afternoon, so I shan’t be alone. I’ll ask him to accompany me on a walk about the park, as Cassidy recommended. It will do Malton good as well.”

When Mr. Swann arrived, he had Fenwick with him. Swann was so unaccustomed to courting that it never occurred to him he was ruining his chances by bringing along a gentleman ten times more attractive than himself. He had some vague notion in his head that the outing would be livelier with Fenwick along. Miss Lonsdale would like it.

And indeed Miss Lonsdale was delighted to see this enlargement of the outing. For all his good qualities, there was no getting around the fact that Swann was unattractive. His wrinkled jacket, on this occasion, was decorated with bits of fluff that turned out to be swansdown. He had spent his morning at the lake with his gun, keeping an eye on his cygnets. He had spotted a falcon nearby, and didn

t want to lose one of his precious brood.

The three set out for Bibury in Swann

s lumbering carriage. It was ancient, the side walls wearing a season

s coat of dust. The team drawing it was an indifferent set of bay plodders. The left rear wheel squeaked for lack of oil. Swann, however, noticed nothing amiss.


A dashed fine day,

he said, smiling amiably.

I thought you might like to have a look at the church, Miss Lonsdale. Or have you visited it already?


I haven

t been in it. I should like to see it.


A dashed fine church. Norman. That

s French.


Yes.


There

s a river in town as well. It has no swans. You might see a clutch of ducks, I daresay. Really a very nice little town, Bibury.


Yes. Picturesque,

she replied.

Seeing that the outing was not rolling along in such a jolly manner as it might, Swann cast an appealing eye on Fenwick.

Fenwick interpreted the look and tried to oblige.

This talk of churches and rivers is all very well, Scawen, but you must know that when a lady visits a village, what she is really interested in is the shops.


Oh, we have shops,

Swann assured Jane.


We

re not speaking of butcher shops and greengrocers,

Fenwick rattled on.

What an out and outer like Miss Lonsdale wants to see is the drapery shop, and the ladies

toy stores.


I make no claim to being an out and outer,

Jane objected.


Such modesty, and you wearing the most ravishing bonnet ever devised!

Fenwick said, glancing at her new low poke in a deliciously conspiratorial way.

Of course, you

re a dasher, but it doesn

t do for a lady to do her own crowing. That is our duty, eh, Swann?


Yes, by Jove. A regular out and outer. You will show all the gels the way, Miss Lonsdale.

“No doubt that Norman church will be full of low  poke bonnets in emulation of your new
chapeau,
come Sunday,

Fenwick said.

The ride and especially the conversation continued at a merry pace until they reached Bibury, where they stabled the carriage and went on the strut. It was a rare treat for Jane to be walking out with not one, but two gentlemen. She gained her fair share of ogles, but it was at Fenwick that the ladies took a second look.


Let us get the church over with first,

Swann said, and set out at an ambling gait for the far end of the High Street.

There it is,

he said, when it came into view.

It was a squat stone church built in the Norman style with rounded window and door. Swann just pointed to it. He had no details to add regarding its age, history, or construction.


That

s that,

he said.

Or would you like to step inside and see the

the windows and pews and pulpit and all that, Miss Lonsdale?


I shall see them on Sunday. It

s such a fine day, let us continue our walk.

They just glanced in at the various shops as they strolled toward the bridge, where they stopped to look for ducks. Swann formed a horn of his fingers around his lips and emitted a creditable imitation of a duck. When the birds paddled toward him, he pulled a handful of bread crusts out of his pocket. A shower of crumbs filled the air and clung to his coat and trousers as he broadcast the dry bread. Half a dozen birds came swimming forth to gobble up the crumbs.


Now we have seen the church and river. What would you like to do next, Miss Lonsdale?

As a stranger in the neighborhood, Jane had nothing to suggest except to walk back to the shopping area.


How about an ice?

Fenwick suggested.


A nice what?

Swann asked, frowning.

Oh, you mean a nice cup of tea. Good idea, Fenwick. We shall just ankle along to Miss Daugherty

s Tea Room.


I believe Lord Fenwick meant an ice,

Jane said, speaking slowly and clearly.

Swann considered it a moment.

He can have an ice at Miss Daugherty

s if he wants. You and I shall have a nice cup of tea.

Jane would have preferred an ice, but she went along without complaint. The tea room was a modest affair with five tables, two of them against the windows, giving a view of the street beyond.


We shall sit by the window where we can see the crowds passing by,

Swann said, drawing a chair for Jane.

She glanced out the window, where one housewife hurried past, carrying a parcel, and two boys played with a dog.


There is Bibury High Street,

Swann said, pointing to the street they had just left as if it were an entirely new feature.

Jane feared Fenwick would say something that might offend Swann.

I thought it was Paree,

he might say, or some such thing, but he just smiled at her, with a lambent glow in his eyes.

Does Miss Daugherty still make that gingerbread?

he asked Scawen.


Yes, by Jove. The best gingerbread in the Cotswolds,

Swann said.

I thought you was having an ice, Fenwick.


I changed my mind. We cannot let the ladies have all the prerogatives.


Eh? I am sure there will be plenty to go around. If there ain

t, Miss Lonsdale can have my piece. I can have a gingerbread any time.

Miss Daugherty was able to provide sufficient tea and gingerbread for all three. Swann settled back with a sigh of contentment as Jane poured.


I like to see a lady pour tea,

he said.

It

s homey, somehow. I picture long winter evenings by the grate, with Miss

with a lady pouring tea, and a hound curled up at my feet. You don

t get that in London, Fenwick.


Tea, hounds, and grates

and of course, ladies

are all available in London.


Aye, but you don

t know enough to stay at home and enjoy

em. You

re always gadding about to balls and routs and plays. You don

t fool me,

Swann said wisely.


For shame, Fenwick,

Jane said, then turned to Swann.

Milk and sugar?


Plenty of both.

She fixed Swann

s tea and handed it to him.

Here you go. A nice cup of tea.


You pour very nicely, Miss Lonsdale, if you don

t mind my saying so. Very dainty. You didn

t spill a drop.

He took the cup and promptly sloshed tea into his saucer.


Thank you, Mr. Swann. I never balk at a compliment.

As he lifted the cup to his lips, drops of tea fell to his waistcoat, to join the feathers and dust and bread crumbs there. Jane had to restrain herself from chiding him, as she was accustomed to doing with her awkward students.


Just milk for me,

Fenwick said. They exchanged a look half of dismay, half of amusement, at Swann

s performance.

As Swann lifted his cup, loosing another shower of drops, Jane could no longer restrain herself.

The tea is dripping on your waistcoat, Mr. Swann,

she said.

Perhaps if you dried your saucer with the napkin ...

He looked down.

By Jove! So it is. What I need is a wife to smarten me up. Heh heh. Someone to tell me what to do.

He daubed at the tea, while darting a shyly hopeful look at Jane. What he needed was a nanny, but she could hardly say so without hurting his feelings.

Jane wished Fenwick would begin some of his lively bantering, but he had fallen silent, with a small frown puckering his forehead. It was Scawen’s rather awkward hint that he saw Miss Lonsdale in the role of his wife that accounted for it. He knew Scawen liked Jane, but until that moment, he hadn’t realized Swann was serious about her. It would be an excellent thing for them both. Scawen certainly needed a wife, and Miss Lonsdale would be doing well for herself to nab him. She was a good-natured lady who didn’t seem to mind his awkwardness and lack of conversation.

He was attracted to her himself; she was different from his usual sophisticated flirts, but he had no serious attachment. The decent thing to do was to retire from the fray. Scawen didn

t meet many eligible ladies, whereas he knew a dozen girls who were as pretty as Jane, all of them with handsome dowries. It would be ill done of him to interfere in this romance. And so he sat, frowning into his cup, steeling himself to do the proper thing.

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