Anne Barbour (7 page)

“You wished to see me, my lord?” she asked softly, and instantly every word of his prepared sermon vanished from Simon’s brain. If only the irritating wench were not so—so captivating, with her great gray eyes like summer clouds full of rain, and the late morning sun streaming through the window to touch her feathery curls with silver. Even swathed in dark blue muslin, the womanly curves of her body were enticingly delineated. Now that she did not move with deliberate clumsiness, her slender grace was evident. Dazedly, he recalled his disbelief yesterday at the thought of her assuming the role of Puck. Now, he could only wonder that a creature seemingly composed of light and air had managed to transform herself into an unattractive, earthbound lump. With an effort, he pulled himself together.

“‘Wished,’ ” he replied stiffly, “is perhaps too strong a word, but it seems it has become necessary to discuss a certain matter. It is beyond my understanding—”

“Of course,” interposed Jane with an ingenuous smile. “You wish to know about my, um, rather odd manner of dress yesterday.”

“Oh, no, Miss Burch. I know all about your extremely odd manner of dress. It is quite obvious that you are endeavoring to present yourself as an elderly spinster in order to give countenance to Winifred’s position here. What I want to know is why you chose to lend yourself to such a preposterous plot. Good God, have you any idea of what you have done to Winifred’s reputation? For precisely how long do you think this—piece of chicanery could have been carried out—if it is not already blown? Just who are you, anyway?” he concluded, noting with some fury the pettishness in his voice.

Relieved, Jane fastened on the one question she was prepared to answer in all honesty. For she had contrived a carefully edited rationale of her actions for presentation to his lordship.

“Oh, I really am Winifred’s cousin. I live with my father, a country squire in Suffolk, and my two sisters, Jessica and Patience. I have a brother, too. His name is Gerard, and he is presently at Oxford.”

Simon lifted his hand impatiently. “Yes. Thank you, I do not require a complete family history. What I wish to hear, is—

“About Winifred’s and my little, er, deception,” finished Jane. “Well, you are quite correct, of course. When Winifred was finally persuaded to bring in a companion to live with her, she was most averse to having someone she felt sure would try to thwart her plans to take up a career on the stage. She immediately thought of me, for we have always been fairly close. My mother and hers were first cousins, and when we were small, we visited back and forth a great deal.” Jane glanced into her lap, where she had begun to pleat the folds of her skirt, for it was here that she planned her small divergence from the truth.

“I was at first reluctant to fall in with her plan, for despite what you must think, I am a sensible sort of female, not given to mad starts.” She continued hurriedly, as though she had not heard his snort of derision, “However, it soon began to be borne on me that if I did not do as she asked, she would simply ask someone else— someone who might not have the ability to—to make her see reason. I do not, you see, see eye to eye with her in the matter of this absurd idea of a career on the London stage.”

“You don’t?” asked Simon in some surprise.

“No, I most certainly do not. In fact,” Jane added tartly, “you might show a little appreciation for the fact that I have so far managed to keep her from peltering down to London on the first available stage.”

“Well, I would not say—

“As to my pretense, it was necessary, after all. With Wilfred gone to his reward and Millicent heading over the horizon with Sir Clifford, the vicar and his wife, with all their kindness, could do nothing with her. She has no close relatives left, and her guardian was miles away.” She allowed a hint of censure to creep into her voice. If his lordship could be made to feel just the slightest bit guilty, it could do her plan no harm. “Thus, she had no guardian, nor anyone else to lend her countenance. If we were going to make her charade work, I had no choice but to appear much older than I really am. I am four and twenty, by the by.”

“But, surely—” Simon began again, only to be interrupted once more.

“We did not, after all, plan for the thing to go on forever. We knew you would be coming along, at which point Winifred planned to convince you to let her go to London. I know,” she said as Simon shook his head in disbelief. “However, Winifred is very headstrong. At any rate, I felt that when you arrived, you would bring a companion for Winifred of your own choosing, and I would fade gracefully back to Suffolk, with no one the wiser.

“And yes, I have played my part in the presence of several of the Timburtons’ neighbors, but only once, and I kept well in the background. I assure you, no one suspects that Winifred’s cousin is not a thoroughly respectable, if somewhat eccentric, middle-aged spinster.”

Simon sighed, and the frown, which had settled between his brows in what seemed like a permanent cramp, eased somewhat. “I noticed the eccentric part. I will confess to you that I am relieved to discover that, while I am not convinced that you did the right thing, you are not the addlepated female I met yesterday. Might I ask what possessed you to appear in such a guise? It must have been terribly wearing, if nothing else.”

Jane laughed. “Well, I am already a spinster, of course, but when Winifred mentioned the words ‘respectable’ and ‘elderly,’ I thought immediately of Miss Horatia Binbud, Squire Binbud’s older sister. She is a dear old soul, and the very personification of propriety. I decided I could do no better than to model my efforts on her, even though she is, frankly, the silliest woman of my acquaintance. To tell you the truth”—she chuckled engagingly— “it’s been rather fun being a shatter-brained lackwit.”

Simon’s lips twitched despite himself. “Allow me to congratulate you on your masterful portrayal,” he said dryly. “I cannot tell you how it relieves my mind to know that I shall no longer have to listen to your—or Miss Binbud’s—demented twitterings. Oh yes,” he added in response to Jane’s quick intake of breath, “it is time to end your pretense, Miss Burch. I cannot countenance duping the county any further.”

“I see,” said Jane, and Simon was forced to drop his eyes to avoid drowning in the liquid intensity of her gaze. “Very well, my lord, and how soon do you plan to depart?”

“Depart?”

“If I return to my home, you cannot very well stay here with Winifred unchaperoned. Particularly with the additional presence of your young friend.”

Simon scowled. “I have no intention of leaving, nor did I intend for you to do so. Unless it is what you wish, of course. You are Winifred’s relative as well as her guest. Your future plans must be worked out between the two of you. As for a chaperon ...” He gestured toward a folded paper, sealed and ready to be posted. “I am writing to my Aunt Amabelle—Lady Teague— to come to my rescue. She is a widow and makes her home with my brother in Kent, and if I know her, she will drop everything to come to my rescue. The distance is not great, so I expect her within the week.”

“But,” said Jane with a confident smile, “in the meantime, what about visitors?”

“I think,” replied Simon judiciously, “that we will put it about that both Miss Timburton and her cousin are ill with, er, putrid sore throats and are not receiving visitors at present.”

“What a bouncer!” gasped Jane. “And you have the gall to reprimand me for my dishonest behavior.”

Simon flushed. “It is not my wish to deceive anyone, but I do not see how it is to be avoided, at this point. I might add that it is you and Winifred who have made this subterfuge necessary. As I said, it will only be for a week or so. After Aunt Amabelle arrives, you are welcome to remain.” His expression, reflected Jane, was anything but welcoming. “You may still continue existence as Cousin Jane, I should think. Just mention casually that you’ve found a new modiste, or some such. Aren’t they supposed to wreak magical transformations?”

“Magical, perhaps,” muttered Jane, “but not supernatural.” She rose from her chair and paced before the desk, and once more Simon marveled that such a lushly formed body could still move with the grace of a young sylph fresh from the forest. Spinster indeed!

“If we—” began Jane, but she was interrupted by a commotion that was taking place in the- drive just outside. “What in the world ... ?” she murmured, hurrying to the window, Simon close behind her, just in time to behold a smart curricle pulling up to the front door with a great flourish. Two young men, dashingly attired in many-caped greatcoats leaped from the vehicle. One of them, the driver, tossed the reins to a diminutive tiger, who had also exited from the curricle, and they made their way hastily to the house.

“Good God!” cried Jane faintly. “It is my brother Gerard, and—dear Lord, he has Harry with him!”

“Here’s a marvail’s convenient place for our rehearsal.”
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
HI, i.

Jane, with Simon on her heels, raced from the study and arrived in the entrance hall just in time to be lifted quite off her feet in a tumultuous embrace by a tall, dark-haired young man.

“Janie!” he cried, laughing.

Simon immediately noted the resemblance between brother and sister, despite their difference in coloring. Gerard’s gray eyes mirrored his sister’s excitement, and their firm chins were remarkably alike. Another young man waited diffidently to one side for Gerard’s boisterous greeting to subside. His straw-colored hair seemed to spring up in all directions at once from above a pair of round, blue eyes, giving him an appearance of gentle astonishment.

“Gerard!” cried Jane breathlessly. “Why did you not tell me you were coming, you wretched boy? Whatever are you doing here? Hello, Harry,” she said to the second visitor, when at last her brother returned her to her feet. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Simon noticed with some amusement that Harry blushed furiously as he planted a chaste kiss on Jane’s cheek. She turned as Simon moved forward.

“Oh! Lord Simon, allow me to present my brother, Gerard, who is supposed to be at school, and his friend, Harry Bridge-worth of whom I might say the same thing.” She turned back to her brother. “Lord Simon is Winifred’s recently appointed guardian and he has come to take up residence here. Now,” she asked again, “what in the world are you doing here?”

Gerard flushed slightly, but his confident smile remained undiminished. “Well, as it happens, we got into a spot of trouble with the bag wig.”

“You’ve been sent down?” asked Jane in dismay. “Oh, Gerard, how could you?”

“It’s nothing serious,” Gerard assured her hastily. “We have been ordered to rusticate for a few weeks only—by which time term will be over, anyway. Of course, we must pay up for the damages before we can go back.”

“Damages?” asked Jane in a failing voice.

“Well, yes. There is the organ grinder’s equipment—and a new suit for the monkey. And in all probability a new bonnet for Mrs. Bishop. Just trifles, I assure you. Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

“But, what are you doing here?” asked Jane with some asperity. “Why did you not go home?”

“Ah. Well, I didn’t wish to cause an upheaval at the old homestead. You know how Father hates having his routine disturbed.”

“In other words,” said Jane, her eyes narrowing, “Papa knows nothing of this latest contretemps.”

Gerard’s eyes dropped and a guilty flush suffused his cheeks. “Urm,” he muttered, “seemed like the best course of action. Unless ...” He cast a wary eye toward Simon. “If we’re intruding ...”

“No, not at all,” replied Simon in smooth, if somewhat bemused, assurance. “If Miss Burch wishes you to remain here, you and Mr... er... are more than welcome.”

“Bridgeworth,” said the young man, flashing a hopeful smile. “Harry Bridgeworth. From Lincolnshire.”

Simon nodded cordially in return.

“Ah—” said Gerard, whose gaze, Simon noted, had been roaming expectantly about the hall for some minutes, “where is Winifred?”

A flicker of displeasure sprang to Jane’s eyes. “She’s at breakfast, I believe. Or—no, here she is now.”

Gerard whirled in the direction indicated by his sister. Winifred drifted into the hall with Marcus in tow, and Simon watched as Gerard’s mouth dropped open in blatant adoration.

“Why Gerard,” said Winifred, blinking, “whatever are you doing here?”

Another flurry of introductions and explanations flew around the room as the group moved from the hall into the largest of the nearby salons. Tea and scones were brought to nourish the travelers, who admitted that, though they had breakfasted at an inn not far distant, where they had spent the night, they rather fancied they could stand further sustenance.

Gerard had taken a place near Winifred, where he regaled her with his exploits regarding the organ grinder and his monkey.

Harry, steadily ingesting the lion’s share of the scones, was content merely to gaze worshipfully at her. Simon found himself scrutinizing Jane until, suddenly, he became aware that the conversation between Gerard and Winifred had taken an unwelcome turn.

“Why, yes,” Winifred was saying with the sparkle in her eyes that Simon now knew very well boded no good, “I think you would do very well as Bottom, and your friend can be one of the other clowns—Flute, perhaps.”

“Oh, I say, Winifred,” breathed Gerard worshipfully, “it sounds like a splendid idea. Do you really think you can pull it off? Putting on a play, I mean? Do you think anyone will want to come see Shakespeare? Not that he isn’t quite popular in some quarters,” he added hastily.

“Oh, yes,” replied Winifred with a serene smile. “Everyone likes A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and it will be of particular interest to all hereabouts when it is learned that I am mounting the production. And when everyone hears that I am to play two parts, I am sure our audience will crowd the chamber. I have not decided whether to use the gallery or this room, since—”

“You may ease your mind on that score, Winifred,” Simon’s voice sliced through her words. “You will require neither the gallery nor this room, since the play will not take place.”