Amanda Scott (26 page)

“Thank you, madam,” he said with a polite nod. “I shall relay your approval in the appropriate quarters. Oh, and, madam,” he added just as she turned away.

She turned back. “Yes?”

“His lordship asked me to tell your ladyship that he has set your little supper back a half hour, so that we can be certain all is going smoothly with the picnic in the garden beforehand.”

She caught a niggling impression that the butler believed that to expect the servants to serve both a picnic supper to their many guests and an intimate supper indoors at the same time was rather too much, and that it was all her fault, but Anne merely nodded calmly and said, “Thank you, Bagshaw,” before walking away.

Aware that, since she did not want to think about that private supper at all, she had very likely attributed thoughts to the butler that he was not guilty of thinking, she made up her mind to be extra civil the next time they met. After all, the smoothness with which the day had progressed was due in a very large degree to his impressive efficiency.

At Rendlesham, nearly every public day resulted in at least one unpleasant incident, either because men a little the worse for drink engaged in fisticuffs, or because some careless, unsuspecting female servant allowed herself to be trapped behind a barn or in the shrubbery by a not-so-well-meaning servant or guest (most often one of the gentry, unfortunately). But today, one did not have to worry that a Priory manservant would so far forget himself as to be uncivil to any visitor, or even to the maids. Not only was it safe to assume that no man under Bagshaw’s eye would dare taste the ale or wine that he was serving to the guests, but females at Upminster appeared to have better sense (except for their mistress, as Lord Michael would no doubt very soon point out to her again) than to wander about in the shrubbery, or behind the barns, without proper protection. They either went about in pairs or with one or another of the footmen nearby in attendance.

The afternoon passed swiftly into early evening. Anne continued to make her rounds of hospitality, greeting newcomers and speaking with as many persons as she could, but she did not see Mrs. Flowers again, and when she encountered Jane Hinkle during a slight lull in the proceedings, she learned that Jane had not had any success in extending her acquaintance with the woman.

All too soon, the tables were set for the picnic supper, and the servants began to lay out the food. Anne was discussing with Lady Hermione the expected return of the balloonists, when she saw Michael descending upon them with a purposeful step. When he reached them she hastily repeated the gist of their conversation.

He said, “They will be back in the next half hour or so, I daresay. My uncle meant to set down as soon as he reasonably could today, because he wants to get his precious balloon back to the meadow with as little loss of inflammable air as possible.”

“Goodness,” Lady Hermione said, “I should think he must release a great deal just in order to transport the thing.”

“He says not. He says, in fact, that it will prove easier for the horses to draw the wagon if the weight of the balloon is lessened to such a degree that they are carrying next to no weight at all. No, really,” he added with a grin at Lady Hermione’s skeptical expression, “he tells me the French frequently transport theirs in such a fashion, and that the balloon will actually retain its air for upwards of thirty days. He thought I would commend such economic methods, and I do, ma’am, I certainly do.”

She sighed. “I daresay he will be leading a parade when he does return if he means to pass along the highroad with such an outrageous equipage for all the rustics to see. No doubt we should tell Bagshaw to lay out food for another hundred or so persons.”

Michael chuckled. “Bagshaw has everything in hand, ma’am, and can even handle an extra hundred, if there are indeed that many left in the county who have not already presented themselves here today.” He smiled at Anne. “Shall we go in now, my dear? You will excuse us, I know, ma’am. I have arranged to enjoy an hour alone with my wife, so if anyone should chance to miss us, I rely upon you to extend our excuses.”

“Certainly, dear boy,” she said, smiling fondly at them both.

Anne avoided her gaze, lest the shrewd woman discern her increasing discomfort. Walking with Michael into the house, she decided that she now comprehended some small portion of what French aristocrats must have felt upon being led to Madame la Guillotine.

E
XCEPT FOR THEIR PERSONAL
servants, Anne and Michael dined alone. Bagshaw drew the curtains when they entered the dining room, shutting out the pale evening light and leaving the room lit only by candles in tall branches on the table and sideboard, in the numerous mirrored wall sconces, and in the great chandelier over the table. The effect was pretty, Anne thought, moving to take her seat at the end of the table. It was a pity there were just the two of them to enjoy it.

“One moment, Elbert,” Michael said when the footman pulled out Anne’s chair at the end of the table opposite him. “Her ladyship will be more comfortable seated nearer this end. Rearrange the covers, please.”

Anne saw that Michael was smiling doubtfully, as if he were uncertain of her reaction to his command. She said, “That arrangement will certainly make it easier for us to converse, sir, if that is your pleasure.”

“It is,” he said, his expression relaxing.

Elbert seated her at Michael’s right hand, and silence reigned while Bagshaw poured their wine at the recessed sideboard and two under-footmen presented numerous dishes for approval before placing them on the table.

Having endorsed the menu earlier, Anne watched Michael’s reaction to each dish and made her own selections quickly, without hesitation. When she refused the white mushroom fricassee, Michael said, “Don’t you like mushrooms?”

“Not much,” she admitted.

“Then why do you order them so frequently?”

“Because I know you are partial to them, of course. It is not necessary for me to order only my favorite dishes. We always have a wide variety from which to choose.”

“You take good care of us, my dear,” he said, nodding for John to carve the roast.

Feeling heat rush to her cheeks at the compliment, Anne said to her own footman, “That is all I require, Elbert, thank you.”

At a sign from Bagshaw, Elbert left with the underlings. When John finished serving the sliced beef and stepped away from the table to his place at the wall, the butler nodded at him to remain, then followed the others.

When the door had shut behind Bagshaw, Michael said quietly, “I’ve not seen much of you during the past fortnight, my dear.”

“I’ve had a lot to do to see the house and gardens prepared for our visitors today,” she said, keeping her eyes on her plate.

“I told you there would be a lot of fuss,” he said, but his tone was light and without censure.

She said, “I enjoy fuss, as you call it, and I’ve done this sort of thing many times before, you know. Papa enjoys public days, but Mama thinks them a heavy responsibility, which is how I came to learn about organizing them. I do confess, we never entertained so many curiosity seekers at Rendlesham as I saw here today, but in fact, Bagshaw and everyone did an excellent job of seeing that the day ran smoothly.”

“We received more than our share of gawkers, to be sure,” Michael said, signing to John to refill his wineglass, “and I daresay that if my esteemed uncle succeeds in bringing his balloon home still filled with air, there will be a good many more. Your lovely gardens will be utterly overrun, I’m afraid.”

It was the first time he had spoken well of the gardens, and the thought that he admired them brought another rush of pleasure. She said, “Several beds have been trampled, I know, but we will soon have everything back in order.”

He nodded, then applied his attention to his plate, and she could think of nothing to say that would not smack of excessive pride in her gardens. She did not want to bore him by speaking too enthusiastically about them, for she knew he did not share her passion. Nor did she want to say anything that would remind him of their encounter that morning, lest he might still have more to say about that. And if she were to comment on the food he might think she was fishing for more compliments.

Twice they began to speak at the same time, apologized, and urged each other to go first. Anne considered speaking to him about Andrew, for she believed, from rumors she had heard, that the new tutor was keeping him too well occupied with his studies and might do better to teach the boy to swim; but she hesitated for fear that the mere mention of Andrew’s name might stir Michael’s temper. She certainly could not tell him that Andrew and Sylvia had encountered the dubious Mrs. Flowers. Not only would she never mention such a thing in front of the footman but she felt certain that Michael would not be amused by the encounter and would say she ought to have prevented it. Since she believed the same thing, she had nothing to say in her own defense. Silence was clearly her wisest alternative.

Abruptly, awkwardly—almost as if he had been wrestling with his thoughts in the same way she had been wrestling with hers—he said, “I suppose you have been too busy with the house and garden to pay much heed to Andrew or to Sylvia the past few days.”

Wondering yet again if he had peeked into her mind and read her thoughts, she said with care and an oblique glance at John, “I have been occupied, certainly, but I hope you do not think I have neglected the children, sir.”

“No, no, certainly not,” he said hastily, and the glance he flashed at Bagshaw, entering just then with Elbert to serve their dessert, assured her that he too was aware of the servants. “I merely wondered if you think Sylvia is happy to be home again. What with her odd behavior in turning up in unexpected places and disappearing apparently into air, I confess, I know no more about her emotional state now than I did when she first returned.”

“I think she is accustomed to being at home again,” Anne said, feeling no more inclined to discuss Sylvia’s difficulties before the servants than she did Andrew’s conduct.

Their conversation while they ate their pudding went no more smoothly than that which had preceded it, and when Bagshaw set a decanter and a fresh glass at Michael’s right hand, and Elbert moved up behind Anne’s chair again, she said with relief, “I will leave you to your port now, sir.”

She had begun to rise from her chair when he said flatly, “I don’t want to be left to my port. I want to talk to you.” When she sat down again, he added, “Pour her ladyship another glass of wine, Bagshaw. Then you and the others may leave us alone.”

“Yes, my lord.”

A moment later, the door shut with a muffled thump behind the servants and the only other sound was the muted murmur of their movements on the other side, signaling their departure to the kitchen with trays of dishes, cutlery, and platters of leftover food that would be dispensed—along with the leftovers from the picnic—to the lower servants for their supper.

Anne said, “Did you wish to speak more specifically about Sylvia, sir, or have I done something more to displease you?”

“More?”

“Well, you did say you had several things you wanted to discuss, and when you mentioned the children … Perhaps I have not kept as close an eye on them as I ought, but their own servants and Mr. Pratt are very much to be relied upon.”

“Yes, of course, they are.”

“Then it must be that you have more you want to say about this morning,” she said with a sigh. “I wish you will not. I have already agreed that I was at fault, and though I disagree with the necessity, I will try not to forget Elbert again.”

He did not answer at once but regarded her in a measuring way before saying quietly, “I have nothing more to say about that, for I believe you were quite right, and are quite capable of determining whether you need a footman at your side or not. Actually, the boot is on the other foot. I’ve been wondering what I have done to displease you.”

“Me?” But she knew now exactly what he meant, and she could not bring herself to meet his steady, inquiring gaze.

“What is it, Anne? If I visit your bedchamber, you are either absent or already fast asleep. If I touch you, you suddenly think of some important task you must attend to elsewhere. What have I done to make you avoid my presence?”

She opened her mouth to deny that he had done any such thing, but shut it again, unable to lie to him. Reluctantly, she forced her gaze to meet his and said, “I am not certain that I can explain my behavior to your satisfaction, sir. The topic is not an easy one for me to discuss.”

“Then I
have
done something.”

She tilted her head. “You sound relieved.”

“I
am
relieved. I had begun to think you simply could not tolerate my company. For God’s sake, tell me what I have done.”

Still she hesitated. Even thinking the words seemed brazen, and she believed her imagination must be shamelessly pictorial, for his supposed actions leapt vividly to mind despite the fact that she herself had never seen him do anything wrong. The last fact steadied her. She said, “In truth, I do not know exactly what you have done, and that is one reason I have found it quite impossible to approach you with the information I received.”

“Someone has been carrying tales to you?” His displeasure now was palpable. “Who has dared to do such a thing?”

She shook her head. “I shall not tell you that, because the person who spoke did so with the greatest reluctance, and only because I insisted that … that the person do so,” she added in a rush, unwilling even to reveal the sex of her informant lest he guess it had been Jane.

His countenance hardened before a glint of reluctant amusement softened it again and he said, “Really, my dear, I believe you must tell me the whole tale now.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “I suppose I must, but please understand my difficulty, sir. The topic is not, as a rule, mentioned by ladies even to other ladies, let alone to gentlemen.”

“Are you truly so nice in your notions that you cannot speak of it, or are you just afraid to talk about it with me?”