Evelyn Richardson (27 page)

He decided at last to set out for Camberly. But first he resolved to do something for Frances—and Freddie as well--that would please her, no matter what the outcome of future encounters. He fulfilled his much-longed-for promise and took Freddie, Nigel, and Ned to a cricket match at the grounds recently set aside by Mr. Thomas Lord. The boys were ecstatic. Even Ned, who ordinarily was more interested in bookish pursuits, his only outdoor activities centering around horses, was enthralled. The marquess himself had a surprisingly enjoyable afternoon. Though he'd since transferred his athletic interests and prowess to the boxing salon and equestrian pursuits, he had not forgotten his own days of glory on the cricket pitch. It was refreshing to return to those scenes, to discuss it all with such eager spectators, to talk with people too young to dissemble, to pretend interest that they didn't fed or feign boredom. Infected by their enthusiasm and undisguised admiration, he found himself unbending and enjoying himself in a way he hadn't since he had returned from his travels in the colonies.

He was not alone. Freddie, seeing that Lord Mainwaring was the true sport he had expected him to be, was more determined than ever to reestablish easy terms between the Cresswells and Mainwaring. This resolution extended even to the inclusion of Ned in his conversation. Ordinarily he would have written him off as a rather dull stick as he had in the past, but Cassie had seemed to see something in him. Now, as he got to know him, he realized that this dullness stemmed from a natural reserve and being raised in a feminine household. Ned wasn't necessarily unadventurous. He had just never had anyone to encourage him. Freddie resolved to visit Camberly more often in order to offer him the boon of male companionship. Of course, the chance to bring himself and his family to Lord Mainwaring's attention did nothing to weaken this admirable resolve.

Chapter Twenty-eight

The subject of these various machinations continued in her routine, totally oblivious of the stratagems of those interested in her welfare. In spite of admitting to herself that she was in a fair way to being in love with, or certainly attracted to. Lord Mainwaring, Lady Frances had never entertained the least thought of marrying him. She had never even seriously considered marrying anyone, and she would have been astounded and probably highly annoyed to learn that no fewer than all of her nearest and dearest, with the possible exception of Aunt Harriet—and the Comte de Vaudron was working on that redoubtable lady—not only pictured her married to Lord Mainwaring but also were actively promoting the match.

She was glad to welcome Cassie, Freddie, Aunt Harriet, and the staff home. In truth, after the first few days when she had relived past events, reinterpreted various scenes, and wrestled in general to put her thoughts and emotions in order, she had begun to find her solitude more upsetting than restful. Bertie's house party had certainly provided diversion. It was delightful to discuss antiquities with Lord Alvanley and match wits with Bertie's more brilliant friends. She had even enjoyed the blatant admiration of some of the younger members of his group, who trailed her everywhere, hanging on every word. And she had been warmed and comforted by the support and sympathy she read in Bertie's bearing toward her. But instead of dispelling unwelcome thoughts, these people, so closely connected with the life she had led in London, brought back the memories even more vividly. She longed for the simple trust and companionship of her family. Thus when one beautiful June afternoon the dusty carriage finally appeared, she greeted them all with unusual warmth.

“Fanny, Wellington, Nelson! We're here!” Cassie yelled, leaning perilously from the coach and waving vigorously as it rounded the bend in the drive. The twins were bursting with energy, eager to get back to the freedom and delights of the country.

“Has Jim arrived yet with the ponies?” Freddie wanted to know. “And has Ned come home yet?”

Frances was somewhat surprised by this last query, as Freddie had been less than interested in his neighbor before.

“I don't believe so, but I don't know when they plan to return.”

“Oh, soon, I expect. He told me the other day it would most likely be sometime this week.”

Frances' curiosity increased. “Oh, did you see Ned and Kitty while I was away?”

“Oh, yes. Lord Mainwaring took Nigel, Ned, and me to see a cricket match at Lord's. And, Fan, it was the most bang-up thing ever.” Her brother had begun blithely, but observing the slightly rigid look that came over his sister's face, he broke off abruptly. “Wellington, Wellington! Come on, you silly mongrel,” he called. “Let's go to the stables and see what's up.”

“He's not a mongrel, “Cassie protested indignantly, but then, recognizing the meaningful look cast in her direction, realized that Freddie had purposely chosen a taunt that never failed to rouse her, with the sole object of getting her attention. She trotted off obediently with him and Wellington to the stables.

Once out of earshot, her twin hissed, “She's still angry at him, so be sure you don't let on that he's coming down here.”

She nodded, looking at once mischievous and approving. “What a strategist you are, Freddie.”

“Nothing to it,” he responded loftily, but spoiled his superiority the next minute by adding confidently, “Grown-ups aren't at all difficult to manage, you know. They aren't any better at covering up their feelings than children are. They just seem to want different things. Though why they want them, I can't understand.” He frowned disapprovingly at this afterthought. In fact this had been puzzling him a great deal. Except for Fannie and Cassie, who were both great guns, awake on every suit, and pluck to the backbone, he had no use at all for females. They were weak, silly things who never knew when to be quiet and had no interest in the finer things of life—dogs, guns, horses, boxing. In fact, he had decided in a meditative moment that he liked his sisters precisely because they didn't act like other members of their sex. Given this misogynistic outlook, it was only natural that he should look upon love and lovers with the highest scorn. Most boys of eleven would have been totally oblivious of the existence of this phenomenon, but Freddie was a medievalist at heart. He delighted in tales of knights and dragons and bemoaned the cruelty of a fate that had caused him to be born in a civilized age when even duels were illegal. He read voraciously, anything and everything, even tackling Froissart and Malory in his enthusiasm. Though he skipped over the parts concerning fair ladies and concentrated only on the incredible feats required to rescue them, he was aware that their approval was a motivating factor in knightly conduct. Much as he loved and admired Lancelot and Arthur, he deplored their apparent foolishness over Guinevere. And now, another, more fleshly hero seemed to share their only weakness. Not only had Freddie been disgusted that such a nonpareil as Lord Mainwaring should want to spend time with someone as clinging and languishing as the lady who had been hanging on his arm that day in the park, but he had even found it difficult to believe that his lordship could prefer driving Frances around the park to joining him and Nigel on a return trip to the Tower.

At first he had thought Mainwaring escorted Frances so that she would not feel left out when he returned to the more manly companionship of Freddie, Nigel, and Ned. But it had soon been borne in on him that Mainwaring enjoyed his sister's company, in fact actually preferred it to his. It was not to be supposed that Freddie could overlook this flaw in his hero, but in view of his other outstanding qualities, he readily forgave it. And, after all, Lord Mainwaring was not acting foolishly over just any female. Just before the unfortunate encounter in the park, Freddie had begun to recognize the advantages of this otherwise disturbing state of affairs. Lord Mainwaring was increasingly to be seen at Brook Street and could always be relied on to lend a sympathetic ear to the problems of perfecting one's cricket techniques or to offer advice on the management of recalcitrant ponies: And then that overdressed lady with the mean eyes had somehow ruined everything. Freddie didn't quite understand it, but he knew that his elder sister was very angry. He also knew that though she was seldom upset, once she was, she didn't give in easily. He also knew that a man who had successfully dealt with pirates in the West Indies and angry natives in Africa would not be the least bit worried by a furious woman, even if she were Lady Frances Cresswell. He was far more likely to ignore her and sooner or later forget all about her and her family. And Freddie certainly did not want that to happen. He felt that the best course to reestablish relations was to take a leaf out of Malory's book and hope for some situation that would offer Mainwaring adventure and challenge, while at the same time rendering a service to Lady Frances. In this boring day and age, such dramatic situations were not readily available, but Freddie felt certain that time and some ingenuity on his part could produce one. In the meantime, it would be better if the two principals in the drama were kept apart and not allowed to annoy each other further.

At his wits' end as far as the creation of such a situation went, he decided to enlist the aid of his twin. Cassie listened breathlessly while he outlined his plans. Sympathetic as she was, she was no more forthcoming with ideas than he had been. “If only all the dragons hadn't been killed or died off,” she sighed.

Wistfully, Freddie thought so too, but there was no use in wasting time and energy lamenting the glorious past. “Come off it, Cassie. Think!” he ordered. And the two of them sat in the hayloft with furrowed brows until Wellington summoned them to tea. Ferreting out the twins in all their many hideaways was one of Wellington's prime duties. Aided by his sharp eyes and no less acute nose, he was justifiably proud of his skill, for Cassie and Freddie were past masters at hiding in out-of-the-way nooks and crannies.

Meanwhile, the object of all these plans was worrying over the state of affairs himself. Well aware that it behooved him to tread carefully where Lady Frances Cresswell was concerned, Lord Mainwaring did not take Bertie's suggestion and escort Kitty and Ned into Hampshire. Lady Frances was too damnably self-assured as it was when trapped in the most unexpected and uncomfortable confrontations. He certainly did not want her to be forewarned of his presence at Camberly. He made certain of arrangements for his wards' journey and bade them a warmer farewell than anticipated. Really, he had almost grown fond of Kitty's enthusiasms and Ned's youthfully serious air.

He then retired to business of his own—reports to be made to Lord Charlton, problems with a greedy maharajah who was making trouble with his agents in the East, and recalcitrant tenants closer at hand on his smallest estate in Buckinghamshire. He dealt with all of these in his usual incisive manner, but at times his mind would wander back to Lady Frances and conjecture on a variety of possible receptions at Cresswell. His shipping agent found him unwontedly cautious and several times his solicitor was forced to recall his errant thoughts. Both instances were so uncharacteristic of his lordship that these worthy men were slightly dismayed.

“Hit's as though 'is 'eart wasn't in it,” the agent complained to an overripe widow of indeterminate age who shared his predilection for the Mermaid tavern in Cheapside.

“I can't think what must have been worrying him. Everything has been settled most advantageously,” Mr. Wilkins confided to his worthy mate as they sat over their dinner in Russell Square. Both of these ladies, springing from backgrounds as dissimilar as one could have imagined, had no difficulty in interpreting this behavior. “It's a woman, sure as I'm breathin',” sighed Nell gustily.

So it was that the Cresswells and their neighbors enjoyed a week of activity unconstrained by the presence of Lord Mainwaring. In fact, only Lady Frances would have been uncomfortable in his company. A Season in London had taught Kitty that formidable though he might be, her guardian was well-versed in the ways of society. In the main. Lord Mainwaring, concerned with more important problems than the latest style of tying a cravat or the tailor best capable of fitting a coat to perfection, spent too much time in diplomatic and financial circles to be acknowledged as a leader of the ton. However, his excellent taste in all the arts, coupled with tremendous wealth, pleasing personal appearance, and undoubted prowess in athletic pursuits of all types made him sought after by hostesses eager to lend cachet to their various functions, damsels aspiring to distinction or a great catch, sporting bloods in search of an amateur who posed a serious threat to the nation's champions, and hoary members of the Foreign Office in search of a well-considered opinion. In short, better than being one of its leading lights. Lord Mainwaring commanded the respect of the fashionable world, which was no mean feat. And in doing so, he had won the grudging admiration of his ward, uncomfortable as she occasionally still was in his awe-inspiring presence.

Ned, who could have cared less about society, or even whether or not his guardian noticed him at all, had first been impressed by his lordship's library. Not only was it well-stocked, it appeared to be well-used. Its shelves were never dusty and the volumes stood irregularly enough on them that even the most casual observer must recognize that they were frequently consulted. Ned was thrilled to have access to such a place. And, being a sensitive lad, he could see the trouble the marquess, obviously a busy man, went to to make certain his young charges enjoyed themselves. Though quiet, Ned was well aware of all that went on around him, and he grew to admire his uncle as he had never admired anyone else. He envied his calmness and assurance, the analytical approach he took to complications, and the way he interested himself personally in any problem, no matter how trivial.

Of course, Freddie and Cassie would have welcomed such a knowing 'un as the marquess. They had never stood in the least awe of him and were more ready than the others to recognize the qualities that made him an intriguing companion for even the most imaginative of eleven-year-olds. They were vociferous and frequent in lamenting his absence, and were carrying on in their usual manner one day to their sister. “Lord Mainwaring would let us go to see the Gypsy fair. I know he would,” protested Cassie.