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Authors: Joan Smith

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I expect it would actually be the other schoolmistresses you were closer to.


Yes, I had one particular friend, Harriet Stowe. Our backgrounds were rather similar. Both clergymen

s daughters. Harriet was in worse case than I. She had no relatives when her papa died.


She was fortunate to have been hired by Miss Prism. I believe one requires some connections to be taken on there?

She noticed the keen eye with which he regarded her, and was suddenly suspicious.

I had no special connections. I believe that, like myself, her papa knew some influential clergyman in Bath.

“And is that all that’s required? One would think the line of hopeful applicants would be a mile long. I thought perhaps Lord Pargeter put in a word for you.


No, how should he? I didn

t know him at the time.


You didn

t visit your aunt at Wildercliffe before this visit?


Yes, once when the first Lady Pargeter was still alive.


You got on well with Pargeter?

“I scarcely met him. And that was
after
I was working at the academy, Lord Fenwick. I assure you he had nothing to do with my being hired.

She could find no reason for his questions. He had been listening when Lady Sykes covered the same ground earlier. This conversation seemed pointless, unless he felt she was unqualified as a schoolmistress.

I was hired for my talents,

she said stiffly.


I

m sure they are formidable, Miss Lonsdale.

She stared at him a moment before speaking, trying to gauge his intention. He met her gaze, but she read some guile in his expression. He smiled, but it was an insincere smile.


No, they are only average. Formidable talents are not required to teach young ladies reading and writing.


Of course.

Fenwick nodded.

Character, I expect, is of equal or even more importance.

Her tongue touched her lips nervously.

Quite,

she said.

Fenwick

s interest soared, but before he could pursue this new line of inquiry, Swann was upon them. He used his empty cup as an excuse to escape Lady Sykes. When he had filled his cup, he joined Fenwick and Jane.


Pity our outing was canceled, Miss Lonsdale,

he said.

We shall do it tomorrow, if you like.


I look forward to it,

she replied. Relief showed on every line of her face, and Fenwick was sharp enough to see it. She was definitely uncomfortable discussing character. He was intrigued that such an innocent-seeming lady should harbor a secret vice. What could it be?


I must visit Wilkie and Minerva this afternoon, rain or no,

Swann continued.

They only hatched six eggs this year. They usually hatch seven. With only the one breeding pair left, I can take no chances. I am on the lookout for a pair of black swans. You wouldn

t happen to know of a pair for sale?


I

ve never even seen a black one,

she told him.


Some neighbors of mine in Surrey have a pair, but I doubt they would part with them,

Fenwick mentioned.

Swann sipped his tea and glanced about the room.

Old Horace is acting pretty coy,

he said.

Trying his luck with Miss

with Lady Pargeter. Hard to remember to give her her title when she has been Miss Rampling forever. Phoebe will never bring it off.

Jane continued drinking her tea, but Fenwick caught her eye and smiled.


If worst comes to worst, Miss Lonsdale, I know several families who would be happy to hire a governess with experience at Miss Prism

s Seminary,

he said in a joking way.


What the deuce are you talking about?

Swann asked angrily.

Miss Lonsdale ain

t looking for a position. She just got here. She has not even seen my swans yet.


I was discussing future possibilities, after Miss Lonsdale has seen your swans,

he said.

The visit did not last long. As soon as the tea was finished, the callers left.

While they were driving home, Phoebe said, “The chit is certainly Pargeter’s by-blow. I noticed a marked resemblance, but I shall not call Nigel until it is settled that she is to inherit Wildercliffe, or he will go falling in love with her, for she
is a
little prettier than I had expected.

Fenwick had seen no such resemblance. Jane

s conversation told him she had no thought of inheriting, yet she had become quite vexed when he harped on her former acquaintance with Pargeter. There was some mystery there, some irregularity.

He stifled a yawn and said,

Surely love is a prerequisite for marriage, Phoebe.


What bizarre notions you modern fellows harbor. Love is fatal to a happy marriage. It produces nothing but jealousy and arguments. Your mama would stare to hear you speak so foolishly, Fenwick. Love indeed! I shall invite them to Swann Hall for dinner, to forward the relationship.


It

s my house,

Swann said, his ire rising.

“Indeed it is, and I want you to do the thing up nicely, Scawen. Two or three courses and as many removes. You must not mention it to your mama, or she will want to join the party. She’ll ruin it, with her dribbling and meandering talk. What a trial it is when the old folks don’t know enough to die. Did you notice the housekeeper was wearing Lizzie’s pearls, Fenwick? I wonder if the jewelry was left to her outright in the will. It is worth fifty thousand easily. The Pargeter diamonds alone must be worth close to twenty thousand.”


Ten,

Scawen said.

Phoebe ignored him. She was the sort of lady who dealt in hyperbole. Her enemies were all blackguards, and her few friends were saints. Anyone with five thousand a year was a nabob, and anyone with less than five was a pauper.


See if you can find out the next time you call, Horace,

she said.

But do it discreetly. You did very well, by the by. I knew someone of your cut would just suit the housekeeper.

* * * *

At Wildercliffe, the visit was also being discussed.


Lady Sykes plans to palm that disreputable brother of hers off on me,

Lady Pargeter said, and laughed merrily.

She must think I

m easy to please, if I would marry that sponge. What had Fenwick to say, Jane?


He mentioned the same possibility,

she said.


I begin to see why they came. There is one good thing in it at least. It seems Lady Sykes has decided not to go to court. I would dislike the bother. Shall we have a snack before lunch? I am feeling peckish.


You go ahead. I

m not hungry, after sitting all morning. You

ll be putting on weight if you keep up at this rate, Aunt Fay.

Lady Pargeter called for bread and butter and some cold mutton, promising she would go out and walk as soon as the rain let up. Jane sat on, mentally reviewing her first flirtation, and wondering if it had been a flirtation, or merely a diversion to cover an interrogation. Lord Fenwick had asked a dozen seemingly pointless questions. Why did he think Pargeter had taken an interest in her? He had something in mind, but for the life of her, she couldn

t fathom what it was.

 

Chapter Seven

 

The next morning dawned fair. From his study window, Lord Malton saw the sun glinting on newly leafed trees, fresh from the spring rain. A light breeze stirred their branches. On an impulse he rose and threw open the mullioned window, a thing he seldom did. As a warm zephyr blew over him, he felt some long-forgotten stirrings of life. It was Fenwick’s recent visit that called to mind his late friend Pargeter, and his widow. A fine-looking woman, Rampling. He had always thought so. Many a time he and Pargeter had regretted her being a lady. On an impulse, Lord Malton decided to call for his carriage and pay a call on Lady Pargeter.

He took a glance at himself in the gilt-framed mirror in the entrance hallway as he left, and gave a shudder of distaste. Where had this old man come from? His nice tawny mane of hair had faded to gray decades ago, and had nearly left his head entirely over the past ten years. The tawny hair would have looked like the devil with his ruddy nose and cheeks, but he wished he had more than a fringe of white to cover his pate. His stomach preceded him by half a foot, but by God, he still looked like a gentleman. He had not begun drooling on his waistcoat, and he could walk with the brisk step of a fifty-year-old.

Lady Pargeter was quite simply amazed to receive a call from him half an hour later. He had always treated her with a certain avuncular jollity that was half flirtation and half genuine friendship. She soon saw that his manner had not changed in the least.


Lady Pargeter! I trust this old ghost from the past does not frighten you,

he said, walking forward and raising her hand to his lips.


Lord Malton! I couldn

t be more surprised if you were a ghost.

His smile told Fay that the call was a friendly one.

Why have you been ignoring me?

she demanded.


Because I

m a lazy hound, and could not drag myself out of the house in winter. It was Lord Fenwick

s call t

other day that brought you to mind. Not that I had forgotten you entirely! At my age, you must know, I

d forget to eat my dinner if the servants didn

t call me. Oh, I am a sad wreck of humanity. A sad creature. May I have a glass of wine?


You were not used to be so formal, Lord Malton. Help yourself.


Don

t you think you might dispense with the

Lord

after all these years, Ramp

Lady Pargeter?

He stopped and shook his head.

No, I cannot call you by that name. Lizzie will always be Lady Pargeter to me. You are Rampling, but as it wouldn

t do to call you so now, I shall call you Fay,

he said daringly.

He poured the wine and they settled in for a good coze.


Young Fenwick was sniffing around to see what  he could discover,

he said.

Sykes put him up to it, no doubt.

“You
didn

t tell him?


Not the whole, until we see how things come out. Mind you, you can

t keep it a secret forever.


There

s plenty of time. Did Fenwick tell you my niece is staying with me?


He mentioned it. Where is she?


Swann has taken her to see his swans.


Ah, Swann,

he said fondly.

You ought to encourage her to have him. An excellent fellow, Swann. He

ll never nab a wife on his own. Swann Hall needs a lady

s touch. Poor old Mrs. Swann is past it. I hear she

s completely bed-bound. How cruel time is. I remember her as a pretty lady when I was in short coats. She was quite the belle of the parish.

Lord Malton remained for an hour, chatting and enjoying the little flirtation immensely. When he left, his step was lighter, almost youthful.

* * * *

At Swann Lake, Jane Lonsdale was also enjoying her morning. She had been pleasantly surprised to see that Lord Fenwick accompanied Swann when he called for her. He was dressed more casually on this occasion, with a dotted Belcher kerchief in lieu of a cravat, but wearing the same blue jacket, which hugged his broad, straight shoulders. His chestnut hair, brushed forward in the stylish Brutus do, gleamed in the sunlight. Swann could not have chosen a companion more likely to cast him in the shade.


I talked Fenwick into coming with us,

Swann said.

The swans can be a trifle testy when they have their young about.


It didn

t take much persuasion,

Fenwick said to Jane, with a warm smile.

I had planned to horn in on the visit, and was saved the ignominy of begging.

She sensed a new interest in his attentions. He looked at her in a certain way. It was hard to put a finger on, but his eyes seemed warmer, more interested in her as a woman. Best of all, he didn

t badger her with questions.

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