Tea and Scandal (12 page)

But it was only an amusement. Lord Fenwick might flirt with her when his own friends were not about, but he would never offer for a dowerless lady, even if she might inherit something from her aunt. She was just a pig in a poke, and Fenwick would look for a blue-blooded heiress.

“
So she is coming,
”
Lady Sykes said the next morning over breakfast.
“
And not even a written reply, when I made a point of writing
‘
RSVP
’
on the bottom of the cards. Just what one would expect of a housekeeper, but I own I am surprised a schoolmistress from Miss Prism
’
s Academy does not know the proper way to reply to an invitation. I have had a written answer from Mr. Parker, you see,
”
she said, holding up a note.

Swann frowned at this.
“
Why did you invite Parker?
”
he asked. Parker was a schoolteacher, and therefore a potential competitor for Miss Lonsdale
’
s hand.

“
I needed another gentleman to round out the table. I invited Mrs. Rogers, from Bibury. She has had me to tea twice. One must repay social obligations, Scawen.
”

“She has not had
me
to tea!
”

Lady Sykes always repaid her social obligations on the backs of her friends when she could.

Scawen began counting up numbers on his fingers.
“
You are out in your reckoning,
”
he said.
“
We have four ladies without Mrs. Rogers.
”

Lady Sykes was very seldom out in her ciphering. She knew numbers as a sawbones knew a body, from the inside out.
“
Nonsense. The housekeeper, the schoolmistress, and myself. That is three.
”

“
You
’
re forgetting Mama. She plans to attend.
”

Lady Sykes looked at him as if he had announced he was inviting the rat catcher.
“
On a litter, I assume? I trust that is your idea of a joke, Scawen. Your mama has not left her bed in a decade.
”

“
Yes, she has. She often hobbles along to the end of the hall to look out at the swans. Anyhow, I told her you are having a party, and she says she must attend.
”
A look of unusual severity seized his features, and he added,
“
Only fitting, as she is the hostess. It
’
s her house.
”

“
Nothing of the sort. It
’
s your house, and it is your duty to see she doesn
’
t come shambling in to spoil my party. I won
’
t have it. She is eighty-five years old. She drools.
”

“
Only eighty. Mama is a little vain about her age. She lies. She wants to come down to meet the ladies.
”

Scawen was a rock in the matter. He loved his mama. She had been in her forties when he was born, and as a consequence, he had been raised as if he were her grandson, with very lenient and loving care. Mrs. Swann would attend the party. She not only planned to attend, she had Swann and Fenwick carry her downstairs that morning to oversee the dinner preparations.

She sat in a Bath chair, a wizened little crone in a gown from the last century, missing half her teeth and half her hair. What hair remained was pretty, as white as the driven snow and inclined to curl, but the wisps were not enough to hide her shiny pink scalp. She had dispensed with caps some twenty-odd years before. Caps made her head itchy. Her voice was weak, but it was not querulous. It laid down the law in a breathless, childish tone that brooked no interference.

“
I want no promiscuous seating, Scawen,
”
she said. Her lack of teeth caused a slurring of her speech that was not quite a lisp, but it tended in that direction. She did not deign to discuss her party with Phoebe.

“
What the devil is she talking about?
”
Phoebe demanded.
“
There will be no promiscuity. It is a dinner party we are having, not an orgy.
”

“
Gents on one side of the table; ladies on t
’
other. That is how it was done in my day,
”
the little lady declared.

“
Is she trying to make a fool of me?
”
Phoebe asked.

“
Ladies proceed to the table first,
”
Mrs. Swann continued, ignoring Phoebe.
“
Highest-ranking lady leads. That will be Lady Pargeter. I, as hostess, go last, followed by the gents. And I get to carve.
”
Her trembling little hands gave a foretaste of the shambles she would make of carving.

Phoebe decided to try guile.
“
Oh, my dear Lavinia!
”
she laughed.
“
Your dainty little hands couldn
’
t handle a carving knife. It would be too dangerous.
”

“
In my day, ladies went to carving school. I came top of the class. I remember perfectly how to unbrace a mallard and unlace a coney, to rear a goose and allay a pheasant. I hope we are having pheasant, Scawen. We will want two courses, and I think four meat dishes and side dishes will suffice for a simple dinner party. And of course, a savory.
”

“
Just as you wish,
”
Mama,
”
Scawen said.

Mrs. Swann
’
s rheumy eyes turned to Fenwick.
“
Who is this young Adonis?
”
she demanded.
“
And why have you not been up to pay your respects to your hostess, eh?
”

“
I visited you the morning after I arrived, Mrs. Swann,
”
he said.
“
Do you not recall, you told me I was a brass-faced monkey?
”

“
Ah, so that was you. Of course I remember. You brought me marchpane. It pulled out a molar, but it was loose anyhow, and it was worth it. Do you have any more marchpane for me?
”

“
I shall buy some the next time I am in Bibury.
”

“
Why don
’
t you go now? You have plenty of time. My party is not until this evening.
”
She turned to Scawen.
“
Who is coming, Scawen? Who am I having this party for? Is it the Pargeters? Why am I entertaining them? They never have me to dinner. I haven
’
t seen Wildercliffe in a decade, except for the chimney pots.
”

“
We are inviting Miss Lonsdale and Lady Pargeter, Mama. You remember Miss Rampling?
”

“
Of course I remember Rampling. Is she coming? She used to call with Lizzie. No one calls on me nowadays. Push me toward the window, Scawen. I want to see the road. I cannot see the road from my window, just the chimney pots and the lake and those demmed swans.
”

Phoebe threw up her hands and went below stairs to speak to Cook, to see that the meat was carved when it arrived at the table. With luck, Lavinia would tire herself out before dinner, and be in her bed when the guests arrived.

* * * *

At Wildercliffe that morning, Jane was also making plans for the dinner party. She examined her gowns, wishing she had one that was more stylish. Miss Prism did not permit the empress style that was all the crack in London. “Decadent!” she said, condemning them with a word. With great trepidation, Jane took the scissors to her evening gown and scooped out the neckline. Fay supplied her with Belgian lace to finish off the border. Sewing was a necessary skill for a vicar’s daughter, and the job was done well. It did not look in the least homemade, but quite stylish. She would wear her one piece of good jewelry, the small string of pearls Papa had given Mama for a wedding gift.

Next she went to work on her hair. She customarily wore it bundled back in a bun, but it was naturally curly. She brushed it out at her mirror and tried arranging it in various styles. She and her friend Harriet often used to arrange each other’s hair in their bedroom at night, to pass the time. But without Harriet to help her, the job proved difficult. The best she could do was to loosen the front curls somewhat, and pin the rest up in a roll across the back of her head. It looked rather elegant. Fay lent her a small diamond pin to set amidst the curls at the front. Before going below stairs for lunch, Jane resumed her usual coiffure.

By early afternoon, she sat at the desk in the Blue Saloon, writing a letter to Harriet Stowe. Her gaze often turned to the window toward Swann Hall, as she wondered if she would see Fenwick and Swann riding forth to visit her and Fay. They did not come, but at about three o
’
clock, Lord Fenwick called. He came not through the meadows but by the road, driving a spanking yellow curricle whose silver appointments twinkled in the sunlight. The rig was drawn by a pair of blood grays.

“
I am just off to Bibury to buy Mrs. Swann some marchpane, and thought you might like to come with me,
”
he said to Jane, after a few words of greeting to the ladies.

Jane
’
s heart beat faster. She had never been in a curricle. She and Harriet used to watch them fly by, driven by the out and outers in Bath, and wish they might have a drive in such a dashing rig. And with Lord Fenwick by her side! She positively ached with pleasure, yet her voice, when she spoke, was calm.

“
You don
’
t mind if I go, Aunt Fay?
”

“
Run along, dear. There
’
s little enough to amuse a youngster here. I shall have a rest.
”

“
You really ought to have a walk about the park,
”
Jane said.

“
We
’
ll do that after you return.
”

“
I mean to hold you to that!
”
Jane said, in a scolding way. Then she ran for her bonnet and pelisse.

The drive was everything she had imagined, and more. Fenwick drove at a fast pace to impress her, when she admitted she had never been in a curricle before. She clung for dear life to the edge of the precarious perch, and could not restrain a little squeal of fearful delight when he took the corners at what seemed to her a reckless speed. Stone houses and fields of sheep spun past in a blur. Conversation was virtually impossible with the wind whistling in her ears, and so many new sensations to be enjoyed.

When they drove into town, heads turned to ogle them. Jane felt she was living in a dream. For this one brief hour, she was the pampered lady in the curricle with the dashing gentleman by her side, and not the poor creature gazing enviously as the rig whizzed past. She would include an account of the outing in her letter to Harriet.

“
I look a quiz!
”
she exclaimed, clutching at her bonnet, when at last Fenwick drove into the inn yard to stable his rig.

He reached out, tucked a wanton curl back in place, straightened her bonnet, and said,
“
There, now you look like your proper little self.
”

The speech was at odds with the intimate gesture. Was that how he saw her, as a “proper little” lady? She felt she had grown beyond that. But then, what should he think, when she was wearing the horrid old round bonnet that Miss Prism insisted on? He hopped down and threw the reins to a stableboy, then assisted Jane down from the perch. He didn’t offer his hand; such mild gestures were for old men, in Fenwick’s view. He put his two hands around her waist and whirled her to the ground in a flurry of skirts that showed her ankles. His sharp eye noticed the lack of any lace on her petticoat. It also noticed her slender, well-turned ankles. His strong hands held her as easily as if she were a flower. She gave a little gasp of surprise, then laughed to cover her embarrassment.

“
You should smile more often, Miss Lonsdale,
”
he said, gazing at her upturned face. Lovely long lashes, she had, and such a delicate complexion.
“
You don
’
t have to frighten your pupils now.
”
He felt a stabbing ache for that plain muslin petticoat. A lady deserved lace.

“
Oh, I never frighten them. Miss Prism is in charge of scaring the poor things to death.
”

“
A shrew, is she? Did she frighten you, too?
”

 
“
Well, she is rather a Tartar, but let
’
s not spoil this wonderful outing by talking about her.
”

“
Which way shall we go?
”
Jane asked, looking around. On an impulse she said,
“
I should like to buy a new bonnet while we
’
re here.
”
Then she added artlessly,
“
My aunt is paying me a shocking salary for doing nothing but enjoying myself.
”
He looked a question at her.
“
Two hundred pounds per annum,
”
she announced, her eyes large with pleasure, verging on disbelief at her good fortune.
“
I feel a very bandit taking it from her.
”

Fenwick felt a pang at the modest sum mentioned. He spent more than that on his boots. And she spoke of this simple jaunt as
“
a wonderful outing.
”
Lord, he was fortunate. Never had to work a day in his life, and had more money than one man could wisely spend. Free to come and go as he wished, while other, no doubt more worthy, folks toiled their lives away under the thumb of petty tyrants such as Miss Prism.