Emily Hendrickson (3 page)

“Ah, you be awake,” Pansy said as she bustled into the room, carrying a pitcher of hot water. “I must say, ‘tis a most agreeable house you picked to camp in, my lady.”

“I am pleased you like it,” Juliet replied with a grin. She pushed the luxurious covers aside and rose from her excellent bed, crossing to gaze out of the window at the garden—or what would be the garden when it was cleaned up and made to look presentable again.

“The trees are beginning to leaf out, and I do not doubt the primroses and daffodils are ready to burst forth in bloom. Ah, spring, Pansy! Traveling south has brought it to us sooner.” With a light heart, Juliet submitted to the ministrations of her maid. Once dressed in appropriate garb for inspecting cupboards and crannies, she made her way to the ground floor.

Mrs. Bassett met her at the foot of the stairs, taking note of Juliet’s simple morning dress with what appeared to be approval. Juliet had considered the ribbon-bound scallops marching down the front were rather a nice touch and the mameluke sleeves were something she and her mantua-maker had copied from an illustration in an issue of
The Lady’s Magazine.
This morning she’d added a simple batiste betsy at her neck, thinking it made her look a bit more like a married lady about to spend a day overseeing her new home. Now her hand crept up to finger the delicate frills at the neck.

“Perhaps a bit of breakfast, Mrs. Bassett?” she asked, trying to sound like the mistress of the house.

“Of course, my lady. The breakfast room is the same where you had your bit of supper last evening.” The housekeeper led the way to the pretty room where Juliet had hungrily attacked the simple meal last evening.

In the morning light she could see that the pale gold used in her bedroom decorated this room as well. Pale golden walls proved an excellent background for the rosewood table and chairs, while the carpet underfoot echoed the gold, with rust, celadon green, and darkest brown as accents.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror over the sideboard, Juliet turned to the housekeeper. “Perhaps there is an apron I might use today? I should like to go over the house with you to see what needs doing. There must be a goodly number of matters that have had to be put aside until you had more help or direction.” Juliet ignored the minor detail that she had no business doing any of this. Were she to pretend to be mistress of the house, she had better act the role. She well remembered how her mother supervised the household, for Juliet had tagged along rather than remain in the schoolroom to be plagued by Marius.

Mrs. Basset! gave a pleased nod, then disappeared, leaving Juliet to her breakfast of toast and buttered eggs. Sipping her tea, Juliet reflected that her residing here was not such a terrible imposition. She had sufficient funds so she could at least pay for her food. As well, she would see to it that the house was kept in good condition. No doubt evenings would see her diligently mending sheets!

The morning passed swiftly. Juliet and Mrs. Bassett went through every cupboard and linen chest in the house. As they surveyed the lovely old linens, Juliet took time to note her surroundings. The house might be smallish, but each room was beautifully proportioned and lovingly decorated. As one who had chestnut hair, she was fond of gold and pale greens. It seemed that whoever it was that chose the colorways for this house liked them as well.

Her only moment of discomfort came when they entered the room adjacent to hers.

“This is, or would be, his lordship’s room. What a pity he’ll not be joining you.” Mrs. Bassett hurried over to pull aside the deep gold velvet draperies, allowing the spring sunshine to flood the room.

There was a question in that last sentence that Juliet elected to quite ignore. Rather, she gazed about with curious eyes. She’d never been in a gentleman’s room before. It was beautiful in an austere way—simple drapery and mahogany furniture with clean lines. The bed caught her gaze, for it was massive and very masculine.

Her lingering look, accounted by a romantic heart as being wistful, was noted by the housekeeper, who later told Cook it was a crying shame the young viscountess was left alone by that heartless rake off in London. Not that Mrs. Bassett read the papers, mind you, or knew much about the present lord, but it stood to reason, didn’t it?

Juliet considered the furnishings in the room, intrigued by the shaving stand and an elegant Argand reading lamp on a small table with a comfortable-looking chair to hand. She wondered if the present lord enjoyed reading and rather doubted it. He wouldn’t have time, given all the women he chased.

Several days passed in like fashion until Juliet began to feel as though she had lived here always. She learned which step squeaked, which chair was the best to sit in while doing her needlework, and bits and scraps about the former occupants of the house. It was with great interest that she discovered the handsome boy in the portrait was none other than the present Lord Hawkswood. She wondered if he was still as handsome and why that precious portrait had been left here. It was difficult to reconcile that handsome boy, his eyes so full of innocent love and trust, with the rake she read about in the gossip columns.

She also had the harp tuned and one string replaced. She spent a goodly number of hours contentedly playing music she discovered in a walnut canterbury. Many pieces were duets, witness to the interesting fact that whoever had played the harp also had someone who played the clavichord in accompaniment.

About a week after she had taken up residence in Hawkswood Manor, she had her first visitor. The Oglebys presented themselves at the proper hour for calling. Juliet could only thank Pansy for insisting that she put on a relatively new gown for the day, her other day dresses requiring a washing after her foray into the cupboards and chests. While the white muslin gown was utter simplicity, high at the neck with long fitted sleeves caught up in a puff at the upper arm, its plainness was redeemed by a brown velvet tunic trimmed with pearl beads attached to tiny embroidered silk roses
.

Mr. Ogleby seemed much pleased by what he saw when they entered the drawing room to be greeted by a delighted Juliet. “How lovely to see you both again. I can never forget your kindness to one so very lost.”

“I assure you that it was our great pleasure, my lady,” Mr. Ogleby replied white he bowed over Juliet’s offered hand.

“Dear Lady Hawkswood,” Mrs. Ogleby gushed, “we trust you are settling in well? I waited to call until I felt you had matters here in hand, for I can imagine all that needs doing. Not that Mrs. Bassett isn’t the most capable of housekeepers, but even the best need a guiding hand.”

“Indeed,” Juliet murmured, thinking Mrs. Bassett could work circles around her, knowing all the while precisely what needed doing. However, knowing what needed to be done and having the authority to do something were two entirely different things. Not that Juliet had the authority, but she realized that certain matters had to be cared for else the house fall to rack and ruin. “Mrs. Bassett has been wonderfully helpful.”

“Do say we are the first to hazard a call,” Mrs. Ogleby ventured with a trace of hesitance in her manner.

“You are, and I am pleased to see you. The silence and lack of company can become a trifle wearying after a time.”

Mrs. Ogleby, delighted to learn that she had the jump on that odious Caroline Tackley, beamed. “Well, we are here to change all that for you. I am having a small party come next Friday evening and would be pleased if you would join us.”

Thinking that it would be a good way to become established in the little community, Juliet accepted with pleasure.

It wasn’t until the Oglebys had left and she was once again alone that she realized the danger she faced. What if someone attended who knew the present Lord Hawkswood and that he was unmarried! She could only pray that the news from London rarely found its way into Woodbury or that the gossips did not realize the items regarding a certain Lord H and his many flirts pertained to her supposed husband!

* * * *

Alexander smiled with relief at the news brought by Harry Riggs regarding a certain young flirt. “She has gone out of town, you say?”

“I have it on the best authority. My valet heard the news straight from the Shelford butler. It seems that the divine Camilla has acquired some spots on her face and cannot bear to be seen! Hence this hasty departure from the city to the rustification of the Shelford country home. I gather her mother is furious. The girl is much given to sweets, according to the butler.”

“Which means she will be as grossly fat as her mother come another ten or twenty years,” Alexander said with a knowing glance at his friend. “It also means I am free and do not have to look for an escape wherever I go. I cannot tell you how wearing it has been. Why, last week I was forced to slip through the kitchen at Lord Rutland’s.”

“Devilish bad luck to have a chit like Camilla Shelford enamored of you, old man,” Harry said with sympathy.

“Not enamored of
me,
rather my title and money,” Alexander corrected with a grimace. “It’s as well my mother cannot read the tidbits in the gossip columns regarding my supposed flirts. As it is, my grandmother sends me strongly worded missives containing harsh scolds. She wishes to see me wed, and the sooner the better.”

“Mothers and grandmothers are alike in that respect. I think it’s the babies. Women dote on babies,” Harry said with a reflective air.

Alexander absently agreed, thinking that infants were the last thing he wanted on his mind. The two men left his place with the air of gentlemen freed of an abominable cloud over their heads, facing the day with unalloyed pleasure.

* * * *

“What a pity you do not have a child, Lady Hawkswood,” the elegantly slim and fashionably gowned Mrs. Tackley said with the gracious condescension of one who has produced an heir and a spare—as they were wont to say—plus three lovely girls. “Children are such a comfort when one is alone.”

Juliet noted that Mrs. Tackley managed to imply that Juliet was at fault for her supposed separation from the owner of the title and property. Lord Hawkswood might be a rake and a dashing man about town; he was also her presumed husband, and as such her lord and master. It would never occur to a woman such as Mrs. Tackley that Juliet had come to Woodbury on her own. His lordship must have banished her. The pity was enough to make Juliet grind her teeth in annoyance and frustration.

Thus it was that the following Friday evening she dressed with extra care and attention for the little party given by the Oglebys. Juliet guessed that only the cream of Woodbury society would be invited and that as the viscountess newly come she would be on display. She remembered how her mother had been feted and fawned over prior to her untimely death. Juliet was well primed on what she might expect.

Her pale green gown was again one of utter simplicity; Juliet had never cared for frills and fussiness. The low-cut neckline was edged in exquisite lace, as were the long sleeves. The gown fell from beneath her bosom to the floor in unpretentious grace. She wore her pearls, and when she gathered up a pretty paisley shawl and studied the result of her efforts, she was pleased by what she saw.

“Simple, yet elegant, I think,” she said to Pansy with satisfaction. Even though she had never met his lordship, she knew an odd desire to show these people that she was worthy to be his viscountess. If he had put her aside, she wanted the local gentry to understand that it was not by her choice.

“Dear Lady Hawkswood,” Mrs. Ogleby gushed when Juliet stepped into the spacious entry hall of the Ogleby manor house. It was immediately clear to Juliet that while Mr. Ogleby might not possess a title, he did have money in abundance. The house was beautifully decorated in excellent taste, all dating from sometime in the late 1700s Juliet guessed, and while the house was old, it was marvelously well kept. It somehow reminded her of Winterton Hall, and for an instant she was most homesick.

“How kind of you to invite me to your charming gathering,” Juliet said composedly, smoothing her glove over the simple gold band she now wore on her left hand. She’d found the ring in a drawer of the library desk that second day and decided that it was most fortuitous, adopting it for her own when she discovered it a perfect fit.

“Allow me to introduce you, my lady,” Mrs. Ogleby purred, ushering Juliet into the drawing room, exuding an air of importance. There followed a bewildering series of introductions that required close concentration on Juliet’s part. What a pity she might not have arrived in advance so that she could have met all these people one or two at a time.

Mrs. Tackley, Juliet knew. The others she soon sorted out. Mrs. Ogleby unknowingly gave Juliet clues as to the importance of each person or couple by her manner and speech. It was admittedly an odd feeling to be led around the room and introduced with such deference. However, Juliet was surprised how easily she fell into her new role as Lady Hawkswood. She gave modest opinions when asked, listened well to all that was said, and in general tried to behave with seemly decorum, such as would have done Miss Pritchard proud.

It had been difficult to decide what to do about Miss Pritchard, for if her parents died or recovered, that dear lady might return to take up her post as governess-companion to Juliet. Substitute mother had been more like her position, and for that reason Juliet had deliberated long over a letter explaining what had happened.

At last, Juliet had composed a brief missive, begging Miss Pritchard not to reveal Juliet’s location to anyone should she be asked. Since that dear woman had no fondness for Marius, it was doubtful she’d be inclined to assist him in his persecution of Juliet. As well, Juliet was not too specific regarding her address, preferring anonymity to discovery.

The dinner went well, and again Juliet blessed Miss Pritchard for her admonitions regarding proper etiquette at the table and suitable subjects for conversation. How lovely to discover that her neighbor at the table was an ardent gardener.

“Mr. Wyllard, I beg you will give me some advice on planting my garden this spring,” Juliet said quietly between courses. “The admirable Mrs. Bassett has found someone to assist me with planting—but
what
to plant is the problem now. I would do it properly.” Juliet bestowed a hesitant smile on Mr. Wyllard.