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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

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BOOK: Tea and Scandal
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They all walked together with the brilliant spring sunshine warming their shoulders. They did not skirt the meadow, but cut through it to the far, narrow end of the crescent lake near Swann Hall, where the swans nested. Walking was difficult through the tall grass, but neither gentleman offered Jane an arm. She enjoyed the luxury of being out in such fine weather, with two gentlemen escorts, and not a single thought of having to hurry back to prepare lessons or mark essays. A feeling of freedom possessed her. It required the greatest effort to restrain herself from running through the flower-spangled meadow. She could not resist the impulse to lift her face to the sun and feel its warmth caressing her. How lovely life was!

Fenwick watched her bemusedly. He didn

t speak, but he felt touched by her enjoyment of such a simple outing. What sort of life did a schoolmistress lead? He had never had occasion to consider it, but he found himself considering it now, and he felt a pang of pity for Miss Lonsdale, and all the ladies like her.


Take care or you

ll get freckles,

Swann cautioned, when he saw what she was doing.


I don

t care if I do,

she answered, and laughed in pure pleasure of her freedom.


Nor do I,

Swarm said.

I like freckles. The nest is just along here,

he added, leading her toward the lake.

Swans mate for life. They might use the nest again, or build a new one next year if they feel like it.

She saw a rather disorganized heap of vegetation.

Oh, I thought it would be neater, like a robin

s nest, only larger.


No, it

s a bit of a mess. You can see some of the broken eggs. They shoved the shells out of the nest.

Pale shards of broken eggs lay on the ground.


Where are the swans?

she asked.


I fancy they

re feeding. They eat the greenery that grows along the lake

s edge, and plants that grow in the shallow water. That is why they

re always putting their heads in the water. They ain

t trying to drown themselves, as I used to think when I was a lad.

They went to the edge of the lake, but saw no sign of the birds. As they watched, a graceful swan sailed forth from the rushes. The bird floated for a few yards, then ducked its head under the water, searching for food.


Is that the mother?

Jane asked.


Pen

the female is called a pen,

Swann said.

The male is a cob. It

s hard to tell them apart; there

s no difference in the plumage, but Wilkie is the larger. If they was together, you could tell which was which.

As they watched, the swan floated toward them. It left the water and waddled up onto dry land to begin nibbling on grass.

“A comical walk, they have,” Swann said. “The black bit around the eyes and top of the beak make them look angry. We

ll go down the shore a bit. T

other one must be hiding in the rushes.

Another swan sailed forth, carrying six little clumps of brownish-white down on her back.

Oh, how sweet!

Jane exclaimed.

Can the cygnets not swim?


They can. The cob pushes them into the water when they

re a day old, but they tire easily and hitch a ride from Minerva. That must be Minerva. Wilkie don

t give free rides.


Just like a man!

Jane said pertly.


Why, I

m sure I would be happy to give you a ride any time, Miss Lonsdale,

Swann said.

Only not on my back, of course. Heh heh. I

m not a cob, after all. That is to say
—”

Jane noticed Lord Fenwick

s lips move unsteadily.

And I am not a cygnet,

she said.

I know what you mean, Mr. Swann.


So, is it a date?


What do you mean?


Give you a hurl in my carriage?


Oh, that would be nice.


Bibury. I shall drive you to Bibury very soon. Go on the strut on the High Street. Have a look at the church. You can go shopping, if you like. I

ve no objection to poking through the shops.

Fenwick glanced at Jane again, expecting to share a smile at this simple outing. He was surprised to see her genuine pleasure.

She was thinking what a kind man Swann was.

I should like it very much, Mr. Swann,

she said.


Good. All settled, then. Now, let us have a closer look at Minerva and her brood. Ah, here she comes now. Daresay she is tired out from carrying her family on her back.

Minerva sailed closer. At the same time, Swann took a step toward her, with Jane following. Jane put out her hand to pick up one of the downy cygnets as they came ashore.

At once, Wilkie came charging toward them, wings raised in a threatening pose and his head down. The swan, usually silent, gave an angry barking sound as it advanced. He made a dart at Jane

s skirts. The graceful bird looked much larger with his wings spread. As she turned to flee, the cob snatched the bottom of her skirt in his beak and began pulling at it.

She shouted, more in alarm than fear, though her heart was pounding. Fenwick picked up a fallen branch and made feinting passes at the bird, while Swann grabbed Jane

s hand and pulled her away. Wilkie released her skirt and subsided somewhat, but kept his wings raised in a menacing attitude, ready to attack again.

Jane was trembling. She noticed Fenwick took a step forward, as if to comfort her. Then he looked at Swann and came to a stop, although Swann made no effort to comfort her.

She said,

I have heard swans are bad tempered, but I

ve never seen one in a pelter before.


You shouldn

t have reached for the cygnet,

Swann told her.

I ought to have warned you.


I should have known. Any animal will attack when it feels its young are threatened. Even a robin, or a blackbird. How brave they are.

They watched from a distance as both mature swans began pulling at the grass surrounding the lake. Fenwick noticed that the grass was nearly all gone.


You had two dozen swans last year, did you say?

he asked Scawen.


Aye, and now I

m down to four, along with the chicks. First they moved to the far end of the lake, then they disappeared entirely.


Two dozen is a large flock for this small area,

Fenwick said, glancing around.

I wonder if they didn

t clear out the food supply. You should put out some grain for them. Birds won

t stay where they can

t feed.


I shall speak to the gardener at once. He looks after the swans,

Scawen said, frowning at the frazzled remains of grass.

And while we

re at the Hall, I shall get Miss Lonsdale a glass of wine. She is pale as paper. Let us go along. Mama looks forward to meeting you, Miss Lonsdale.

With a thought of Lady Sykes, Jane preferred to return to Wildercliffe.


I look a fright, Mr. Swann. I wore my oldest gown and these old shoes. My shoes are wet and now my skirt is muddied from Wilkie. Another time.


Mama won

t mind. She always looks a fright.

He looked at his swans, and decided they were starving to death.


I would really rather not,

Jane said again.


Then we must get you home at once.

Again he looked at the hungry swans and frowned. Their topaz eyes seemed to be demanding nourishment.


I can take Miss Lonsdale home, if you

re in a hurry to speak to Jenkins,

Fenwick offered.


If you

re sure you don

t mind,

Swann said.


It would be a pleasure,

Fenwick assured him.

Swann hurried off to speak to Jenkins, and Fenwick offered Jane his arm for the return trip. She felt a little shy, with Fenwick

s hand holding her elbow.


It was an interesting outing, even if I did dirty my gown,

she said.

I

ve never had close contact with swans before. They looked so harmless and beautiful, floating on the Avon in Bath. I shall never look at them in quite the same way again. It was foolish of me to try to pick up the cygnet.

Fenwick stopped walking and looked down at her.

You are a wonder, Miss Lonsdale. Most ladies would be fainting and carping and complaining. I see you

re going to be easy to entertain.

She looked quite shocked at the notion of Lord Fenwick entertaining her.

I am accustomed to entertaining myself.

This statement also struck him as a wonder. Young ladies did not usually dismiss his offers of friendship so cavalierly.

And how does Miss Lonsdale usually entertain Miss Lonsdale?

he inquired, with growing interest.

They resumed their stroll through the meadow.

Miss Lonsdale finds herself easy to entertain. Reading novels, looking at the shop windows, visiting with her friends.

It was the words

looking at shop windows

that called up a pathetic image of Miss Lonsdale with her pretty nose pressed against the pane, ogling all the elegant trifles she couldn

t afford. He sensed, however, that she would disdain pity.


And here I have been pitying schoolmistresses,

he said jokingly.

Why, your life is a virtual round of gaiety. It seems you have come to the right place to continue it. Do you ride, Miss Lonsdale?


I had an old cob when I was younger. An equine cob,

she added, with a smile.


So I gathered. You

ve already mentioned your lack of familiarity with swans. I brought my hacker with me. Scawen has a couple of mounts in his stable. Perhaps the three of us can go riding one day.

He did not particularly want to include Swann in their ride. He wanted to become better acquainted with this quaint little lady, but he felt it would be underhanded to cut Scawen out.


That would be lovely. Such a lot to do, and here I thought it would be lonesome at Wildercliffe.

Again Fenwick felt that wince of pity.

And there is still church on Sunday to add to the merriment. You will be hard-pressed to fit Lady Sykes

s dinner party into your schedule.

She turned a startled face to him. Her long eyelashes fluttered a moment.

Is she having a party? I doubt she will invite Aunt Fay and me.


You are mistaken. The party is in your honor.

She gave him a doubting look.

That is certainly a change.


Phoebe is not one to follow a fruitless course forever.


No invitation had been delivered when we left the house, but if it comes, I cannot promise my aunt will accept. You must have noticed the two were at daggers drawn yesterday.


It promises to be an

interesting evening. I know you will try to convince your aunt to accept.


How do you know that?

They came to a stream, really just a shallow ditch with water lying an inch deep. Fenwick

s long legs stepped across with no trouble, but Jane hesitated. He gave her his hand to assist her. She daintily lifted her skirts and jumped across. They didn

t continue walking immediately.

Fenwick looked at her upturned face, with the sunlight streaming on it. The sun glinted on her brown curls, gilding them in gold. He wondered if those pink patches on her cheeks were due to the fresh air, or pleasure in her outing. What a pretty little thing she was, in her own quiet way.


You said yesterday you wished the ladies could be friendly,

he reminded her.


Yes, but that was before I had seen them together. It promises to be a horrid evening, if my aunt does accept.

BOOK: Tea and Scandal
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