Amanda Scott (25 page)

“But we must put in an appearance, sir. It will be expected.”

“Nonsense, my uncle and Andrew can represent the family. Both of them will enjoy the exercise immensely.” He paused, then added gently, “Don’t force me to command you.”

“I will do as you wish, of course, sir.”

“Excellent. May I escort you to the breakfast parlor? I am told you have not yet broken your fast, but surely, you don’t intend to go through this ordeal without doing so.”

“No, sir.” Taking his arm, she went with him into the house, racking her brain to think of an acceptable way to get out of the little supper he had planned for them.

From the moment the first guest arrived, however, she had little time to think about the coming evening, for crowds soon gathered and the day marched swiftly. She had asked Jane Hinkle to keep a lookout for Mrs. Flowers and to inform her the moment she saw the woman, if indeed she did come; but not until everyone had gathered to watch in awe as Lord Ashby prepared to go aloft in his balloon did Jane manage to slip up to Anne’s side and say, “She’s here, ma’am, yonder by that marble statue of the second duke. The lady in the straw bonnet and green dress.”

Anne looked in the direction Jane indicated and saw a pretty, plump woman, carrying a parasol in one hand and a frivolous little reticule in the other. Her feet were shod neatly in kid boots, and her rosy complexion seemed to owe little to artifice. She smiled and chatted with a fat farm woman, looking as much at her ease as if she were one member of the
beau monde
chatting with another.

Slowly making her way in their direction, Anne tried not to look purposeful and kept a sharp lookout for Michael, or Bagshaw, or anyone else who might recognize her target and try to intervene. She turned away upon seeing Sir Jacob and Lady Thornton approach, but Viscount Cressbrook engaged them in conversation, and she was able to inch on toward her target. At last, timing her movements carefully, waiting until Mrs. Flowers had turned away from a woman to whom she had been speaking, Anne stepped up and said, “I do not believe we have met, ma’am. I am Lady Michael, you know.”

“Yes, of course, your ladyship,” the woman said, sweeping a curtsy. Her voice was not cultivated, but it was melodious, and soothing to one whose nerves were beginning to frazzle. “I’m right pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m Fiona Flowers, from the village.”

“Welcome to Upminster,” Anne said, her courage ebbing swiftly. There was no way she could ask this woman about Michael, no way she could betray that she held any suspicion whatsoever of her own husband. Why, she wondered, had it not occurred to her before what a betrayal of her marriage vows such questions would be? Instead, smiling cordially, she said, “I believe one of our housemaids has spoken of you, ma’am, and most kindly.”

“Did she? I believe I must know the one you mean, my lady, but I have met her only the one time, and then most briefly.”

“I am afraid she stayed out that evening beyond her appointed hour, and has had to forego her days out since then.”

“Knowing what I do about the strict rules at Upminster, I own I’m surprised she weren’t turned off, if she were late.”

“She very nearly was,” Anne said, repressing a strong urge to look around and see if their conversation was being remarked by anyone. To give it even a hint of the clandestine would be fatal, she knew, and thus she held herself erect and said calmly, “Most fortunately, her fault was judged a minor one. However, I know she still has questions to ask you, for she thinks you may be of more assistance in her search for her sister. I hoped to enlist your help on her behalf. She has been forbidden to visit you again, I’m afraid, but perhaps if you do know Molly, you might ask her to communicate with Jane.”

“If you know my reputation, ma’am, which I can tell you do, I am surprised you allow yourself to be seen speaking to me.

“At a public day, Mrs. Flowers, I am expected to speak at least a few words to as many of our guests as possible. No one will remark on our conversation unless it is judged to be of unseemly length. I merely wanted to tell you that Jane has my support in her attempt to discover what became of her sister. If you can contrive to speak to her today, please do so. She will be passing amongst the guests most of the day with refreshments.”

“She won’t want to hear anything I could say to her,” Mrs. Flowers said. “Best she just stop asking questions about Molly.”

“Then you do know what became of her?”

Mrs. Flowers’s expression changed so swiftly that Anne knew they were about to be interrupted, and was not so startled as she might otherwise have been to feel a small hand creep into her own.

She smiled at Sylvia. “Hello, dear, are you having a good time?” The hand tightened around her fingers, and Sylvia leaned closer. Wanting to have at least a few more minutes with Mrs. Flowers, Anne looked around and spying Andrew walking alone for the moment, she said to the child, “There is His Grace, looking for you, no doubt. You must go and watch the ascension with him, so that Mr. Pratt does not snatch him back to his books.”

Sylvia grinned as if to say she knew perfectly well Mr. Pratt would do no such thing in the midst of a public day, but she ran away obediently, and Anne turned back to Mrs. Flowers, only to find that someone else had moved up to speak to the woman. A cheer announced the ascension of Lord Ashby’s balloon, and Anne soon found herself in the midst of the excited crowd. Balked for the moment of any further chance to speak with Fiona Flowers, she continued to mingle with her other guests, and was soon drawn to take part in the well dressing, handing out wreaths and flower garlands to those who desired to observe the ancient custom. By the time she had a chance to look for Mrs. Flowers again, the woman was nowhere to be seen, but Anne soon learned that she had not been the only member of the family to exchange words with her.

Encountering Lady Hermione a short time later, she gratefully accepted a suggestion that they retire long enough to enjoy a glass of punch in the peace and quiet of one of the rooms that had not been opened to the public. Once safely inside the yellow drawing room, with the doors shut firmly, Lady Hermione sank back in her chair and put her feet up on an embroidered footstool.

“Ah, that feels better,” she said. “My shoes pinch, and I am so sick of doing the affable with all these people, I’m afraid that without a respite I’ll soon snap off someone’s nose. To think there are actually people—otherwise perfectly sensible people, too—who really enjoy this sort of occasion. I’d rather be riding with the Cottesmore. It is not nearly so wearing.”

Anne laughed. “I do enjoy this sort of thing, but I’ll confess I’m weary to the bone and my feet probably hurt as much as yours do. The ascension went well, I think.”

“Oh, yes, Ashby will be pleased. Even Wilfred was impressed, although how Ashby actually had the nerve to ask him to frank part of the next ascension, I shall never know. He complains that it’s not his fault no one appreciates his genius, but this is the first time I’ve known him to do something about it. He is in a glow, too. One can practically feel it without even standing near him. But Michael, now, that’s another story. What’s amiss with him, my dear? Surely the two of you have not quarreled.”

“No, we haven’t quarreled,” Anne said, mentally adding,
yet.

“Then what is it, if you’ll forgive an old woman for asking?”

“Nothing to speak of, ma’am,” Anne said. “He is still concerned about matters having to do with the late duke’s affairs. Evidently, he did not leave things in very good order.”

“I should own myself amazed if he had,” Lady Hermione said, “for Edmund had not the least head for business. His interests were gaming, horses, and women, not necessarily in that order, and since he was likely to bet on which of two birds would take flight first, he lost more wagers than he won. As to his women, I half expected to see one or two of his peculiars here today, but the only woman who looked to be alone was the one in the green dress with the pretty chip straw bonnet. Ashby told me she is a widow who has taken up residence in the village, and next I saw Jake Thornton speak with her—without Maria—so I thought I knew exactly who she was. But I saw you chatting with her later, and then young Andrew and Sylvia shortly afterward, so I expect I must have been mistaken about her. Who is she, my dear?”

Startled to learn that Andrew and Sylvia had made the acquaintance of Mrs. Flowers, Anne hesitated before she said, “Precisely who you thought her to be, ma’am. I spoke to her because we had not encountered each other before, and because, as you noted, she was alone and I thought it my duty. As to Andrew and Sylvia speaking to her, the last time I laid eyes on Sylvia, I was speaking to Mrs. Flowers—that is her name, you know. I sent the child to find Andrew, so perhaps the two of them were looking for me, and merely asked her where I had gone.” Setting down her empty punch glass, Anne stood up, adding, “I had better look for them. I’ve stayed away far too long as it is, and really ought to make sure all is in readiness for the picnic supper.”

She knew she was prattling, and Lady Hermione’s expression had sharpened as a result, but the older woman made no objection to her departure, merely saying she would see her later. Anne had no wish really to speak to either Sylvia or Andrew, but she did think she ought to look into the kitchen to be sure everything was running smoothly there.

The odors of roasting meat and baking bread greeted her as soon as she passed through the dining room into the service passage, and she met servants hurrying along, who barely took time to bob a curtsy or a bow, but although the scene that greeted her when she walked into the kitchen looked chaotic, she saw at a glance that everything was in good trim.

“Mercy me, your ladyship,” exclaimed Mrs. Burdekin, bustling up to her, “surely you ought to be outside with all the visitors! Is something amiss, madam?”

“No, nothing at all. I merely wanted to assure myself that everything was running smoothly, and to take a moment to look over the menu for our private supper tonight. Since Lord Michael decided rather on the spur of the—” Breaking off at the sound of a panicked scream, she whirled to see that one of the younger kitchen maids working near the great open fireplace was dancing about, shrieking for someone to “Put it out, put it out!” Flames licking at her hem suddenly flared higher, and she screamed again, twisting and turning in her futile attempts to extinguish them.

Without a thought, Anne dashed to the girl’s side, catching her by the arms and forcing her to the floor, then flinging herself atop the burning skirt. Beneath her, the girl sobbed in terror.

When Anne was certain the flames must be out, she shifted her weight and sat up, saying calmly, “You are quite safe now. Don’t cry. Mrs. Burdekin, make sure every spark has been extinguished, and then apply vinegar and water to any burns she received, until the pain is removed, when you can apply some soothing ointment.” Getting to her feet, she realized for the first time that everyone in the kitchen was silent, staring at her.

The housekeeper’s face was ashen. She began to speak twice before she managed to say, “That were the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, my lady. Come, Clara love, you are quite safe, as her ladyship said, so dry your tears. She’s my niece, ma’am, come in to help just today, on account of the upheaval and all. I am beholden to you for saving her life, which I’ll be bound you did.”

Anne said gently, “There was nothing brave about it, Mrs. Burdekin. My grandmother taught me long ago what to do in such cases, and when I saw that no one else knew what to do to help Clara, I simply took action myself.”

“But to fling yourself on a burning person! Why, you might have been burnt to a cinder yourself, ma’am!”

“The mischief that arises from this sort of accident,” Anne explained, “is owing to the party standing erect, because flames ascend, you see, and feed and accumulate in intensity as they do. When the person is laid on the floor, the flames will do little or no harm and can be easily smothered.”

“I declare, ma’am, that may be so for all I know, but I never heard the like before.”

“My grandmother was acquainted with Sir Richard Phillips, the man who originated this treatment,” Anne explained, “and he proved its worth to her with two strips of muslin. When he set the first afire and held it perpendicularly, it burned with an intense flame in less than half a minute. The second, laid horizontally, took twenty minutes, she said, before it was consumed, and the flame remained relatively harmless the entire time.”

“Quite astonishing that is,” Mrs. Burdekin said. “When one thinks of the number of persons, particularly female servants, who are grievously injured or killed in such accidents each year, particularly through carelessness …” She clicked her tongue and looked at her niece, adding, “What were you about, child, to have let your skirts drift so near the flames?”

“I-I were wishful to see her ladyship,” the girl said, avoiding the housekeeper’s eye. “I turned quick when I heard you speak her name, and … and—” Her voice broke on a muffled sob.

“Land sakes, if that don’t beat all! But it weren’t all your fault, love,” the housekeeper added, shooting Anne a rueful glance. “Had I heeded her ladyship when she said we should ought to have a proper modern fireguard by that fire … We’ll soon have one now, I can tell you. Moreover, after this, I mean to see that anyone working in my kitchen learns what we all learned today.”

“An excellent notion, Mrs. Burdekin,” Anne said sincerely. “Teach everyone, but particularly the female servants, that if their clothes take fire, they must instantly throw themselves on the floor. Thus will they generally avoid serious injury. Indeed, were that precaution generally known, such accidents would result in far fewer tragedies, I think. In the meantime, we will certainly order a better fireguard. I quite forgot, what with everything else, that I had meant to do so long since. Now, about the menu for Lord Michael’s little supper tonight—”

Mrs. Burdekin soon produced the menu, which Anne quickly approved, adding only a fricassee of mushrooms, before leaving to rejoin her guests. Encountering Bagshaw in the dining room, she smiled and said, “Everything is going excellently well, Bagshaw. Please extend my compliments to the staff for all their help.”