A Chance Encounter (9 page)

A few minutes later, Joan settled blissfully into the warmth of the water. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. She hardly heard when the abigail announced that Lady Cassandra had sent in a clean gown for her to wear down to dinner.

Once she had bathed and had dressed in the borrowed gown, however, she started to laugh. “Look, Maisie, I am become a veritable beanstalk.’’ Her wrists extended beyond the sleeve cuffs and the skirt ended somewhere up around her ankles, while the gown itself was a size too large around for her slender frame.

The abigail hid her grin behind one hand. “Oh, I don’t know, m’lady. ‘Tis a pretty gown, I’m thinking,” she said stoutly.

Joan squared her posture, attempting to fill out the gown’s drooping bodice. “I shall make a fine spectacle at the dinner table. I am glad his lordship is not here to see it, though,” she said ruefully. She was struck by a thought and turned away from the mirror to look at the abigail. “Maisie, I do hope you have not said anything about his lordship and myself to anyone?”

“Now, what would I be saying, m’lady?”

“No one is to know just yet that his lordship and I are wed,” said Joan. She felt heat rising into her face at the abigail’s expression. She knew how odd it sounded. “Lady Cassandra believes it would be best to break the news gently to his lordship’s family, so we are to pose as an engaged couple for a time.”

“Oh, I’ll not breathe a word to anyone, m’lady. Begging your pardon,
miss,”
said the abigail.

“Thank you, Maisie.”

Joan went downstairs to join Lady Cassandra for dinner.

Her ladyship eyed Joan’s appearance critically and said, “I suspected you were a bit tall for that gown. You must write for your own things at once, my dear.”

“Yes, my lady. I will be most happy to do so,” Joan said.

Lady Cassandra shot a surprised look at her, then she chuckled. “Indeed! Well, my dear, it is just you and me this evening. We shall make it an early one, if you please. I am an old woman and this shocking situation has exhausted me. Mind you, I shall not sleep a wink for the worry of it all, but that is certainly none of your concern.”

“No, my lady,” Joan said. She thanked the footmen as they finished serving her and took up her fork.

“Aye, you’ve spirit enough, for all that meek tone. We shall begin on the morrow to see what else you are made of, my dear,” said Lady Cassandra.

Joan cast a startled glance at her ladyship.

Lady Cassandra was seemingly oblivious to everything but her repast.

After a moment, Joan resumed eating her own dinner. She wondered, with the slightest
frisson
of apprehension, exactly what Lady Cassandra had meant.

During Lord Humphrey’s
absence, Joan settled into her new role as his lordship’s intended. Joan thought the intervening days until Lord Humphrey’s return to Blackhedge Manor would be interminable and uncomfortable in the strange household, but such proved not to be the case. Lady Cassandra treated her civilly and even fondly, though she was a perfect tyrant otherwise.

Lady Cassandra saw to it Joan was kept busy with small tasks, such as running for her ladyship’s shawl or slippers or vinaigrette, a cushion for her ladyship’s chair or her feet, or reading aloud to her. Joan swiftly learned that she was not the material of a hired companion or, as she acknowledged ruefully, that of a governess. She would not have wanted to be forever at some person’s beck and call, even to one as stimulating as Lady Cassandra.

Joan suspected, and quite rightly, that Lady Cassandra did not want to allow her time for solitary reflection and it was to that end that the unceasing demands were made upon her good nature.

Lady Cassandra openly made known her determination that Joan was to be made over into the perfect lady of quality before the viscount presented her to the Earl and Countess of Dewesbury. “For I shall tell you directly, my dear, you’ll have an easier time of it if you do not commit some silly faux pas or other that could be easily avoided with a little prior training,” Lady Cassandra said.

“I am most willing to learn, my lady,” Joan said.

“Good. I am glad to hear you say so,” Lady Cassandra said with wicked relish. She began to initiate Joan into the finer graces of society, which ran the gamut from proper greeting of personages of varying degrees of importance to the question of her abigail.

“You shall have to rid yourself of that girl who arrived with you, of course,” said Lady Cassandra. “I shall myself find a replacement, one who is more suitable for your station.”

“I prefer to retain my present abigail, my lady. Oh, I know that she is not up to snuff as a proper lady’s maid, but she learns very quickly and I am comfortable with her,” Joan said.

“My dear, you must be guided by me in this. Believe me, it is quite dangerous to have that girl about. Did you not tell me that she actually witnessed the ceremony? All shall be lost if she so much as hints at what she knows,” said Lady Cassandra. She delivered herself of a broad-brushed opinion. “Servants simply cannot be trusted with one’s secrets.”

“I shall speak to her myself, my lady,” Joan said. She smiled, but there was an expression in her eyes that surprised Lady Cassandra considerably. “I shan’t discuss it further, ma’am.”

“Then we must hope for the best, of course,” said Lady Cassandra, somewhat miffed. But she was also a good deal nonplussed. She had not before seen much evidence of the girl’s strength of will, even though she had suspected Joan’s quiet character cloaked much of interest.

Joan learned much about Lady Cassandra’s character as well. She decided that for all Lady Cassandra’s deliberately provoking ways, her ladyship was very likable. From the sometimes caustic comments that Lady Cassandra let drop, she also began to develop a hazy opinion of the viscount’s relations. It was a large and sprawling family of uncles and aunts and nephews and nieces and cousins of several degrees.

“Worthless, most of them. But nevertheless, there are sharp minds among them, so you must always be on your guard. You cannot trust any one of them with the secret of your hole-in-the-wall marriage,” said Lady Cassandra. She was quite aware that she sowed dismay in her recently acquired granddaughter, and seeing the expression of dread in Joan’s eyes, she relented a little. She patted the young woman’s arm. “You will do splendidly, my dear. I have every confidence in you.”

“I hope so. Thank you, my lady,” Joan said.

Joan also learned what would be expected of her in her role as Lord Humphrey’s hostess. “You’ll need all the poise and shrewd wit that God has granted you, my dear, if you are to survive the scrutiny of the most correct,” Lady Cassandra said.

Joan had been used to commanding her father’s household, so she was no stranger to accounts or to entertaining on a small scale—fortunately so, since Lady Cassandra ordered the manor housekeeper to take her in hand and discover what she knew. The housekeeper reported back to her ladyship that the miss’s skills in these areas were suitable enough, which earned Joan a nod of approval from Lady Cassandra.

The old lady was in fact pleasantly surprised at how readily the vicar’s daughter took to the more rarified life that she had been thrust into. Joan was gracious to a fault, her manner was kind and patient, her temper even despite the provocation Lady Cassandra provided by her incessant demands. Joan’s conversation was knowledgeable and on occasion even erudite, reflecting an excellent education. If there was a spark of anger in her brown eyes at those times that her ladyship deliberately sought to overset her or drive her out of countenance, Lady Cassandra thought her the better for such show of spirit.

Joan wrote a note to the Percys requesting that her things be packed up and put into the hands of the messenger who carried her letter to them. Shortly thereafter, her clothes and mementos were with her again. There was also a brief letter from Mrs. Percy, expressing that lady’s well wishes. Mrs. Percy also managed to convey awe and rampant curiosity within her short missive concerning Joan’s unsuspected connections with such a prestigious address.

Joan laughed when she read the arch phrases, for she knew the good lady’s love of gossip and intrigue. She promised herself that she would one day return to visit the Percys and satisfy their curiosity. But in the meantime, she thought, the wiser course laid in the least said, the better.

Lady Cassandra covertly studied the clothing that Joan wore through the succeeding days. She was satisfied by the well-bred appearance that Joan always presented, but she thought the girl’s gowns were something lacking in dash. When she commented upon it, Joan said in surprise, “But I am in mourning, my lady.”

“Yes, but one may be in mourning and still contrive a bit of elegance. Perhaps a few ribbons for refurbishing, and a second muff,” mused Lady Cassandra, a speculative light in her eyes. She gave a decisive nod. “Yes, we must see about it.”

Joan realized from the manner in which Lady Cassandra was visually measuring her figure that her hostess planned to go to an expense greater than the cost of a few new ribbons. “Ma’am, truly I am in need of very little. I could not possibly accept your largess, however gracious it is of you to extend it.”

“Nonsense! You are my granddaughter, so let there not be another word about it, my dear. I shall have the dressmaker in this very afternoon.” Lady Cassandra smiled soothingly at her guest. “If it is the expense that has you in such a pucker, pray put it out of your head. It pleases me to spoil you, but if it should ease your conscience, I shall naturally present the bills to your husband.”

There was a wicked gleam in her cool gray eyes and Joan flushed.

She thought she well knew what the lady was about, but yet she could not help the tingle of embarrassment that suffused her whenever she thought of the viscount in the role of her husband. She had recalled more than once the offhand comment that he had made while at the inn regarding “numerous progeny.” She shied away from all the ramifications of that loaded statement.

“You are an incorrigible, my lady,” she said, mildly scolding. “I suppose that I have little choice in the matter, do I?”

“None whatsoever.” Lady Cassandra laughed. She stretched out her hand to the bellrope that hung beside her writing desk. In answer to her imperious tugging, a footman entered and Lady Cassandra issued the order to summon her personal needlewoman. The door closed again behind the footman’s retreating figure.

Lady Cassandra turned her head to appraise her guest once more. She enjoyed the girl’s frank manners and her lack of pretension. The refreshing qualities compared favorably against the solicitous cozenings of her own relations.

She was a wealthy woman, well-known for her perversity, who had often commented that there was scarcely a handful in the lot of her descendants who were worth their salt, and therefore were hardly suitable specimens to stand as her inheritors. As a consequence, she was much fawned over at any gathering of kinsmen and even the most outrageous of her opinions was given grave consideration.

“I liked you from the moment I met you, my dear. I hope that you will not lose that blend of gentleness and forthrightness that characterizes you,” she said abruptly.

Joan looked at her ladyship, suspicious that she was being made game of again. But there was none of the taunting light in Lady Cassandra’s eyes that she had quickly learned to associate with her ladyship’s cutting and sardonic wit. She inclined her head, not daring to comment on her ladyship’s unusual sentimentality.

Instead, she said, “I see that you have finished your correspondence. Would you like me to give your letter into the footman’s hands? I was just thinking that if you would not miss me, I would go for my shawl so that I could take a turn about the garden. I would gladly carry the letter out for posting as I went.”

The ladies were ensconced in the library. Joan had been reading a book of poetry beside the fire, occasionally commenting on various verses that took her fancy to Lady Cassandra, whom she had discovered shared her love of verse. Lady Cassandra had occupied herself at her writing desk, and Joan had seen that she had sealed the sheets with her own signet pressed into the wax.

“Thank you, my dear. And also convey my desire that a sherry be brought to me. I intend to move closer to the fire and enjoy the warmth of the flames with my wine,” Lady Cassandra said.

Joan set aside the book and rose. As she took the letter from Lady Cassandra, she chanced to glance at the recipient’s address. In Lady Cassandra’s distinctive penning was the name of the Countess of Dewesbury. She felt herself pale.

Lady Cassandra noticed her expression. She said in an offhand manner, “I am inviting myself to Dewesbury in a few days’ time. It has been too long since I availed myself of my daughter’s hospitality and I have decided to seize the opportunity to take advantage of my grandson’s escort whenever he should decide to travel in that direction himself. I hope that you will not mind it, my dear.”

Though it had gone hard against her inclinations, she had not penned a single word concerning the newly wedded couple to the earl and countess. Time enough for them all to learn of the vicar’s daughter, she thought with rare anticipation.

The color returned to Joan’s face. “Oh, no, not in the slightest, my lady. Of course I shall be delighted to continue our acquaintance.” She could not deny her heartfelt sense of reprieve. When she had thought of traveling to Dewesbury, even with the assurance of the viscount’s presence, she had felt apprehensive about facing his family. But if Lady Cassandra was also to go with them, she would feel herself much better able to carry it off.

Lady Cassandra smiled, well able to read the young woman’s relief in her expressive brown eyes. “Go along with you, my dear. You will want to finish your walk before teatime, I expect.”

Joan left the library, bearing the letter to be posted, and dutifully conveyed to the footman Lady Cassandra’s wish for a glass of sherry. Then she went up to gather her shawl and returned downstairs to exit the manor through the back and thus into the garden.

She had quickly discovered the garden, and in the past several days she had managed to slip away in the afternoons to walk the overgrown paths. It was not the usual formal garden that one might expect of a noblewoman’s abode; rather, it was a tangle of blooms and species that upon first discovery had strongly reminded Joan of her unconventional hostess.

Only one corner of the garden had any pretension to formality and it was highlighted by a charming arbor of climbing roses. As always, Joan avoided the path to the roses, preferring instead to wend her way among the rest of the garden.

Joan breathed the scented air, loving the feel of the breeze as it brushed her hair. She walked slowly, savoring the quiet as always. The peace that she had always felt among growing things had been a particular gift to her since her arrival at Blackhedge Manor.

Lady Cassandra had succeeded only to a point in diverting her attention for her circumstances. Joan was still nipped by doubts. There was so much unsettled about the future, so much that she could not easily discern. Joan sighed. She supposed that she would simply have to wait on events to show her whether she had made the wisest choice, after all.

The sun was slanting deep gold across the heads of the flowers. It was coming close to teatime, she thought. She turned her steps back in the direction of the manor.