Jane Ashford (18 page)

“It’s quite all right,” said Lord Fanshawe. “You will be more comfortable there. This is Sir Charles Grove, Miss Hartington. Grove, Miss Euphrosyne Hartington.”

Euphie’s name seemed to confuse the large gentleman further. He muttered a greeting as she went past him and sat in the fourth chair, then sank gratefully into the one she had vacated and leaned toward the countess. Lady Fanshawe continued to glare at her son for a moment, then turned courteously to reply to one of Sir Charles’s sallies.

Lord Fanshawe suppressed a laugh. As he turned to Euphie, his blue eyes twinkled. “Sir Charles is one of Mother’s old beaus,” he murmured.

She gazed at them. The countess by this time looked resigned. “Really? She is not very happy to see him,” she whispered.

“Oh, no. He was not a successful beau. But he claims he never married on her account. Nonsense, of course. He is quite happy as he is. Look at them!”

Sir Charles had possessed himself of one of Lady Fanshawe’s hands and was bending over her solicitously.

“I think you are in for a scold later,” replied Euphie.

“Oh, doubtless, but it is worth it to see her so. Society and admiration, even Sir Charles’s, are good for her.”

And seeing the countess throw back her head and laugh, Euphie had to agree. But she was more impressed by the real concern she heard in the earl’s voice. In their constant bantering, she had not been quite sure what the mother and son felt for each other. Now she knew.

At this moment, the curtain began to rise again, and Sir Charles had to hurry away. He promised to return at the second interval, earning Lord Fanshawe an outraged look from the countess, and indeed he did so. They had no other visitors during that time, and Euphie alternately chatted with her host and listened to the older couple’s exchanges, some of which made her cheeks redden.

The end of the play came all too soon for Euphie. She was caught up in it to the last. And she said little on the drive home. Indeed, she had little opportunity to do so, as Lady Fanshawe filled the short time scolding her son for encouraging Sir Charles. The earl took this in good part, however, and when he escorted the ladies inside, he stood for a moment in the hall to say, “A pleasant evening, Mother, in spite of Sir Charles, was it not?”

Lady Fanshawe shrugged.

“Come, now, admit you enjoyed yourself.”

Looking sharply at him, the countess said, “Did you?”

“I did. Perhaps we can do it again soon.”

“Perhaps. We shall see.”

“Can we not set a date?”

“You are very eager.”

Lord Fanshawe paused, seeming puzzled, then replied, “I think it is good for you to get out.”

“Oh, for me. Well, how is this? Come to dinner one day next week, and we shall talk further about the idea.”

“Done,” he answered promptly.

“Good. Let us say Thursday next. And now, I am tired. Good night, Giles.”

He smiled and bid them both good night. When he was gone, the two women walked upstairs together. “Yes, a pleasant evening,” murmured Lady Fanshawe, “and most instructive, too.”

The week passed calmly. Euphie enjoyed her quiet life with Lady Fanshawe more and more as she began to feel closer to her employer. And she received happy letters from her sisters, which raised her spirits. Nothing marred the peace of the household save a few minor skirmishes between Pug and Nero. And even these were reduced in ferocity and duration. Pug was learning to avoid his frisky colleague, and though he sulked a good deal about this addition to his former kingdom, he no longer attempted to revenge himself on the cat.

On the day Lord Fanshawe was to come to dinner, Euphie was once again ready first. But tonight she sat contentedly in the drawing room waiting for the countess. She wore her white evening dress, a simple gown that set off her bright hair and eyes to perfection, and she had fastened a white rose in her curls.

She was still sitting alone when Lord Fanshawe was announced and came strolling in. She rose quickly, wondering what could be keeping his mother, and said hello.

“Good evening, Miss Hartington. You are looking very fresh and lovely tonight.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Mother is…?”

“She hasn’t come down yet. I can’t think why. I’ll go and see.”

“No need. I don’t want to hurry her. Let us sit down.”

They did so. Euphie searched for a topic of conversation.

“And so you enjoyed the play, Miss Hartington?” said the earl.

“Oh, yes, very much.”

“I’m glad. Your amusements in London up till now have not been quite so conventional, I think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your walks. When I first saw you, you were certainly having an unusual one.”

Euphie laughed. “With Pug and Nero? I was indeed. But I have not done
that
again. I refused.”

“Did Mother wish you to?” replied the man, amused.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. She only pretended to.”

The earl looked at her more closely. “You begin to understand my mother very well, don’t you, Miss Hartington?”

Taken aback, Euphie looked up at him.

“Oh, I am pleased by it, don’t misunderstand. In fact, I meant to congratulate you on the very favorable change I see in her recently.”

“Me?”

“Why, yes. Your coming here has had a marked effect. My mother has kept entirely to herself for years, even discouraging her children from visiting her. Now she seems to be making a change.”

“But I have done nothing.”

“I think you have. Seeing the play in your company recently showed me what it is, too.”

Euphie stared at him. She did not think that she had had any effect at all on the countess. The older woman did just as she pleased.

The earl smiled. “You lend a fresh perspective to everything, Miss Hartington. You renew one’s interest in life through your eagerness for it.”

Euphie flushed. “You are roasting me, Lord Fanshawe.”

“I assure you I am not. You are a very unusual girl.”

“Unusual?” Euphie was uncertain whether this was a critical or approving comment.

“What is unusual?” asked Lady Fanshawe from the doorway. Euphie started and whirled around, wondering how much of their conversation she had overheard.

“Miss Hartington,” replied her son, unruffled. “The more I see of her, the more I am convinced that she is quite out of the common way.”

“Well, of course she is. Haven’t I told you so?” The countess came into the room and sat down. “Dinner will be ready in a moment, so I shan’t offer you anything now. Euphie has been shaped by a series of very uncommon occurrences. First, there was her odd name. It always makes a child think when his name is unlike those of his friends; I am an advocate of odd names myself.”

Lord Fanshawe smiled. “That is, no doubt, why you named your children Dora, Jane, and Giles.”

She waved this aside unconcernedly. “Then, Euphie was reared by her aunt, a most eccentric woman, as far as I can tell. This also contributed to her originality.”

Euphie, very embarrassed by this discussion of her character, kept her eyes on the floor and wondered how she could shift the conversation onto some other topic.

“Tell me more about this aunt,” said the earl. “How, precisely, was she eccentric?”

“Oh, on the face of it, in the usual ways. She kept a houseful of cats, you know, and scarcely ever went out. But that is not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it?” Her son appeared to be struggling with laughter. “I am almost afraid to ask what you did mean, then.”

The countess eyed him severely. “I was referring to Euphie’s education. Her aunt gave her, and her sisters, the freedom to study whatever they wished and as much as they wished. In this way, Euphie gained her quite extraordinary knowledge of music. Her talent, of course, would have developed in any case, but her training was very unusual for a young woman. She was not forced to anything, but she was allowed to study one thing in depth.”

“Yes, I see. But I admit that this method of education seems dangerous to me. It was effective in Miss Hartington’s case because she was inspired to study music. It would hardly do for all young people.”

“We… we were made to learn all the usual things first,” blurted Euphie, not wishing to be thought wholly strange. “And Aunt Elvira always encouraged us to read.”

“Of course she did,” agreed the countess. “One of Euphie’s sisters is a remarkable scholar,” she told her son.

“Indeed? And the third?”

“Aggie is the sweetest, most amiable person in the world,” replied the girl, meeting Lord Fanshawe’s blue eyes almost defiantly. He smiled, and something in his gaze made her catch her breath.

At that moment, Jenkins came in to announce dinner, and they went in, to Euphie’s relief. The talk of originality had made her very uneasy. She did not wish to be an original. On the contrary, she had always objected to their aunt’s keeping them so close to home and not allowing them to do the things other girls did. She had hoped that her unconventional childhood was not perceptible in her behavior, but it appeared that it was, and this was dispiriting.

When the first course had been served, the countess turned to her son and said, “So, Giles, tell us what you have been up to since we saw you last.”

“Up to, Mother?”

“Come, come, you heard what I said. Don’t pretend to be dull. You are always up to some deviltry.”

He laughed. “Indeed I am not. I promise you I had a prosy week.”

“I don’t believe you, but if you are going to be difficult, I will talk of something else. Let us hear the on-dits, then. I haven’t gossiped in an age.”

Though he looked gratified by his mother’s wish to hear about society, the earl hesitated. “Miss Hartington…”

“Oh, la, Giles, not the scandals. Just the news.”

Thus reassured, he complied, and amused them throughout dinner with stories about various London personages and their doings. Euphie had heard of none of them, but Lord Fanshawe’s lively descriptions nevertheless amused her. And Lady Fanshawe was soon laughing heartily.

“Old Geoffrey Danvers a great-grandfather,” she crowed. “How he must hate it. Does he still dye his hair?”

“Jet black,” replied her son, “and wears the tightest corsets in the Carlton House set, which is saying something.”

Lady Fanshawe wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “I must see him. You shall take me to Prinny’s next reception, Giles.”

“I should be delighted.” He threw Euphie a triumphant glance, and she smiled in reply.

His mother rose, “Come, Euphie. Let us go to the drawing room. And you come along too, Giles. There is no reason for you to sit alone over your wine. A bad habit.” With a wry smile, the earl also rose, and they walked back upstairs together and sat in the drawing room. “Ah,” sighed the countess, leaning back in an armchair, “we shall sit a moment and digest our dinners, and then perhaps Euphie will play a little for us.”

“Indeed, I hope so,” agreed her son.

Euphie signified her willingness, and Lady Fanshawe nodded. “Giles,” she added then, “didn’t Julia Warrington’s boy tell me at the play that she is giving a rout party next week?”

“I believe she is; it is one of the first events of the season.”

“Hah. I think I shall go. The lad mentioned something about an invitation, and I brushed him off, but I shall write her and tell her I wish to come after all.”

“That would be splendid, Mother. I am sure she will be happy to see you again.”

The countess looked sidelong at Euphie. “Will you like to go, my dear? I daresay you would enjoy a London evening party.”

“I? Oh, but…”

“Well, of course. You cannot expect me to go alone.”

“But Lord Fanshawe will escort you, certainly.”

“That’s as may be. I shall want you.”

“You mustn’t force Miss Hartington, Mother,” put in the earl.

His mother looked at him sharply, but he refused to meet her eyes. “Naturally not,” drawled Lady Fanshawe, “but Euphie would love a party, wouldn’t you, dear?”

“Well, I have never—”

“Good. That’s settled, then. I shall write Julia tomorrow.”

Jenkins came in with the coffee, and Pug at his heels. As the butler began to set out the cups, the small dog edged along the drawing-room wall toward the far corner, looking frequently over his shoulder and once starting at an unexpected sound. “What has happened to Pug?” the earl asked his mother. “He seems a changed animal.”

Lady Fanshawe laughed. “Changed? I should say so.”

Amused, the earl watched him slink into the corner and lie down. Pug did not relax, however; he kept both eyes wide and staring and scanned the room continually. “What is he searching for?” said the man.

The countess gave another crack of laughter. “Ask Euphie.”

Lord Fanshawe turned inquiringly toward her, and Euphie shook her head. “Nero,” she answered. “He
will
jump out at Pug and tease him; I can’t make him stop, though I promise you I have tried my best.”

The earl began to laugh. “Are they still at it, then?”

“They don’t fight quite so much,” she replied, “but they don’t get on, either. I have tried everything I can think of, but Nero is, uh, lively, and Pug does not seem to understand that he is only funning.”

The butler went out, and Lady Fanshawe poured the coffee. “Pug is only sulking,” she said, “and the sooner he stops, the happier he will be.”

“I have never seen such a transformation,” said her son. “Look, there is the cat now.” Indeed, Nero could be seen near the doorway. He was crouched down on the carpet surveying the room.

“Oh, dear, he must have gotten in when Jenkins went out. I’ll get him,” said Euphie, starting to rise.

“No, leave him. I want to see what happens,” answered the earl.

Euphie looked to Lady Fanshawe; she knew only too well what would happen, but her ladyship said nothing. With a sigh, Euphie sat back.

Stealthily Nero made his way to a table in the center of the room. The cloth hung to the floor, and he disappeared under it. Pug was hardly five feet from the other side. They waited, and in a moment the inevitable occurred. Nero burst from beneath the cloth with a yowl, flying at Pug, claws outstretched. Pug, considerably startled, leaped up just in time to butt his head into these claws, and he began immediately to howl in outrage. The earl collapsed laughing, and Euphie jumped up to separate
the combatants.

She snatched Nero from the floor and held him up. Seeing his opponent removed, Pug, who had been retreating, began to yap and leap up on her skirts. Euphie bent again and scooped him up, holding him in one hand while the other imprisoned the squirming Nero. “I shall shut them in separate rooms,” she said and strode out.

The earl continued to laugh for several moments, and his mother watched him appreciatively. When he was calmer, she said, “You are very merry these days, Giles. I don’t know when I’ve seen you laugh so much.”

“You should have provided yourself with a kitten before, Mother, and you might have seen me laugh all you like. What a sight!”

“And a charming young companion?” suggested the countess.

“What?”

“I said, Miss Hartington is very charming.”

“Oh. Yes, she is.”

“Do you like her?”

“I? Well, yes.”

His mother nodded. “I think I shall try to marry her off, Giles.”

The earl sat up straighter. “What?”

“Yes. She is a lovely little thing. It shouldn’t be difficult to find a suitable match.” She watched her son’s face closely as she said this.

“But… but, she is your companion. If she marries…”

“You cannot think I am so selfish as to consider that. I
am
selfish, but when I look at that lovely girl…” Lady Fanshawe smiled. “And how amusing it would be.”

“But, Mother…”

Euphie came back into the room. “I put Nero in my room and Pug in the library; they cannot get at one another now.”

“Splendid, my dear,” replied the countess. “And now perhaps you will play for us a bit? Only a little. I am getting tired.”

“Of course, Lady Fanshawe.”

The countess held out her hand for her son’s arm, smiling sweetly up at him. Frowning, he gave it to her, and the three walked down the hall to the back parlor and the pianoforte.