The Waltzing Widow/Smith (4 page)

“Not so garish as that basket of cherries you had on your head,” Bigelow objected.

“I am not a widow, dear,” Lady Sara pointed out.

Avedon looked from one to the other in consternation. “You have been telling me for the last quarter hour what a stylish dresser she is,” he said accusingly to his sister.

“Stylish for a married lady; garish for a widow,” she explained.

“Surely you haven’t been at Rose Cottage all this time?” Avedon demanded, turning to his nephew. “You left here three hours ago.”

“Of course not, Uncle. I ain’t a complete flat, you know. I took the ladies to Milhaven for lunch.”

The serene smile on Bigelow’s face was the last straw. “You damned cawker!” his uncle exploded. “Dragging a fast widow over to Milhaven, and your mama not even there.”

“I never got her alone for a minute. Mrs. Percy’s chaperon was with us the whole time. A very respectable old dame, dull as ditch water.”

Lady Sara rose and put a restraining hand on his arm. “Oh, my dear Anthony, I tremble to think what your dear mama will say.” The trouble, of course, was that his dear mama would not say a word. She was as big a fool as her son, and with no papa in the house, the pair of them would be easily fleeced.

“She wouldn’t say anything,” Bigelow informed them. “There’s nothing wrong with Mrs. Percy. She’s very nice. They hadn’t a bit of food in the cottage. It was the only thing to do. I’m sorry I hadn’t thought of it sooner, for Pikey didn’t put on much of a spread for us, though she’ll do better another time when I’ve given her warning.”

“There will not be another time,” Avedon said sternly. “If some loose piece of
baggage
thinks to snap up a title for herself by coming here, she is very much mistaken.”

Bigelow flew to his feet in defense. “Well, if that ain’t just like you, Uncle. Getting astride your high horse and you’ve never so much as cast a glance on her. She’s a jolly nice girl. Tell him, Sal. You saw her. She’s nothing like Mrs. Lacey, if that’s what has you in the boughs.”

His aunt disappointed him. “I remarked a certain resemblance, now I come to think of it. Something around the eyes ...”

Avedon’s face turned livid. “She’s some kin to Lacey. That wretch sent her sister or cousin here to show me a lesson!”

Bigelow laughed a tinny laugh. “Now do be sensible, Uncle. Mrs. Lacey don’t have a sister, and if she did, she wouldn’t have nice brown eyes like Mrs. Percy. She’d have blue ones. The two are nothing alike, I promise you.”

“She will get her nice brown eyes out of here all the same,” Avedon said firmly. “I won’t put up with another month like the past one, worrying about you. I haven’t cashed her check yet, and I shan’t. I’ll tell her we’ve changed our minds.”

Lady Sara thought of the six servants and the luggage and the traveling carriage. She remembered the dairy and vegetable produce to be sold, and she weighed the matter carefully.

“No, Adrian,” she said sadly. “You sent a letter accepting the offer. That constitutes a contract, you must know. She sent the check in good faith, and if you failed to cash it and start collecting your interest, it is in no way her fault. And in any case, she is not so bad. The sister-in-law appeared sensible. Just keep Tony away from her, and we shall rub along well enough. We shan’t do more than nod to them.”

“And, of course, send down our farm cart every day,” Avedon added snidely.

“That is business, dear. They can make nothing of
that.”
A troublesome memory of having invited the ladies to her garden party came to pester Lady Sara. But she had also said they would meet before that time. She would take care that they did not meet, to let the ladies know they were being hinted away.

Avedon rarely looked to his family for guidance and did not do so now. He would not cash the check. He would monitor the situation, and if Mrs. Percy proved troublesome, he would dispatch her.

“I don’t want you hanging around Rose Cottage, Tony,” he said severely. A glance at his nephew’s fatuous grin was enough to tell him the words were not even going in one ear and out the other. They were sailing high over his head. “Do you hear me? Not one penny of the five hundred rent do you see if I hear of their being at Milhaven again.”

“Of course, Uncle.”

Bigelow had already set up a rendezvous for the next morning at Rose Cottage and had every intention of returning that evening on his way home from dinner with Avedon as well. He knew of old that pretending to agree with his uncle was the best way, and he explained calmly, “I was only making them welcome. I have no further occasion to call.”

“See that you don’t, then,” Avedon warned.

A servant appeared at the door with a silver tray. “Oh, they have brought a fresh pot of tea for you, Tony. How nice,” Lady Sara exclaimed. Her sharp eyes observed that he had brought fresh cake as well, and she reached for a slice before turning to her brother. “Tell me, Adrian dear, did you happen to mention to Lord Severn that John is interested in that archdeacon’s position we were speaking of?”

The subject of the Percys was dropped, and Avedon turned his attention from one troublesome relative to the other. He thought he could be a happy man if it were not for family.

While the Percy ladies were enjoying lunch at Milhaven, their well-trained servants made all comfortable at home. The ladies’ luggage was unpacked, the backhouse boy was sent to the village to order supplies, and they returned to an orderly household. Cook informed them that they might have fish, fowl, or red meat for dinner, for she had stocked them all. The iceman had heard of their arrival and had filled the icehouse for her, which Cook took as a pretty compliment to herself.

Dinner was chosen, and soon Mrs. Percy had steered Lucy out to the derelict garden to begin making plans. “We must hire a couple of local gardeners. We shall want this grass scythed and the rabbits dispatched. I think the greenery on that wall wants thinning. I shall have the toadflax removed but leave the ivy. Or do you like the pink flowers of the toadflax, Lucy?”

“You’re the gardener, Auntie. Do as you wish,” Lucy said, and strolled on down to the rear of the garden. “Oh, look, there’s a pond here, with frogs!” Her aunt hastened forward to see it.

“An artificial pond! This must have been lovely once upon a time.”

It was far from lovely now. What could be seen of the water was an indeterminate blackish-green color, so overgrown with lily pads and sedge that it resembled a swamp. The surface was frequently disturbed by frogs. Mrs. Percy was thrilled to have so much to do in the garden. Other treats were discovered as well. A wrought iron table and chairs were completely buried in nettles. They would require a good cleaning and a new coat of paint.

“This will be a lovely spot to sit and read in the afternoons after we have the place tamed,” Mrs. Percy said. “I wonder how much of this space is ours? There is no fence at the back, but only that row of thorn bushes. We could put in a vegetable garden, for this land is going to waste.”

“It seems a shame not to,” Lucy agreed. “Papa planted something in every corner that was not used for grazing. I don’t see any cows nearby.”

“We passed a lovely herd on our way to Milhaven. That would be Chenely’s farm. Lady Sara said all the land hereabouts belongs to her brother.”

Lucy’s eyes lifted toward the stone mansion on the hill. She was curious to meet Lord Avedon. “The countryside is beautiful for riding,” she mentioned. “I should have brought my mount with me from London.”

“Send for it,” Mrs. Percy suggested. Her sharp eyes had observed the change in Lucy since arriving in Kent. The bloom was returning to her cheeks, and her eyes were losing that dull look. The best way to put Pewter out of her mind was to let her socialize with respectable people. And Bigelow was eminently respectable, even if he was a fribble. “Lord Bigelow will point out where you may ride,” she mentioned.

Lucy gave her a laughing look. “Now don’t go imagining a match in that quarter, Auntie. He is a mere babe in arms. I hope he does not prove too clinging.”

“We’ll see a deal of that long drink of water if I know anything. I am curious to meet Lord Avedon. I wonder if he has any younger brothers....”

Lucy gave her a knowing look. “For me to marry, you mean? Let my poor heart recover first,” she said, but in no serious way. Her heart, she knew, was already on the mend. It was her wounded pride that still rankled, and Bigelow’s attention was a balm to it

Mrs. Percy immediately dropped the subject. “Lady Sara lives in Hampshire. I was just thinking, Lucy, as her husband is a clergyman, he very likely knows your uncle Norris.”

“Possibly, but he cannot know Bishop Norris is any kin to me. Let us not mention it. Uncle knows we are visiting incognito and will not say anything to betray us.”

Mrs. Percy rather regretted she could not bring such a prominent relative forward to impress Lady Sara but was soon diverted back to her garden.

Bigelow dropped in that evening after taking dinner with Avedon. Chenely was his second home, and he kept a full set of clothes there. He had changed for dinner, and it was an extremely elegant gentleman who was shown into their parlor at eight-thirty in a black jacket and pantaloons.

“You put us to the blush, sir!” Lucy exclaimed. “We did not change for dinner, as we were dining alone, and the servants are so busy today settling us in.”

Bigelow bowed and said, in one of his more foolish utterances, “Clothes may make the man, but they are not necessary for a lady. That is to say—I mean—dash it, Mrs. Percy, you look charming, as usual.”

He was shown a chair, and under the chaperon’s deft questioning, he was led to reveal all the circumstances of his family. Of the house of Avedon there remained only his mother, Lady Bigelow; Aunt Sally, the deacon’s wife; and Uncle Adrian, who had no brothers. This was sad news. No, the earl was not married. A crusty old devil that no one in her right mind would have, if they wanted the truth, and the worst nipcheese in the kingdom.

Lucy envisaged an elderly miser with a hunched back and foul temper. He must be considerably older than Lady Sara.

Lady Sara’s daughter, Prissy, was mentioned, along with the fact that she was a great butter-toothed blob of a girl, the dead image of her mama, only even uglier. She would be here with Aunt Sal now if she wasn’t needed at home to look after the family. Which was a blessing for him, if they wanted the truth, for Aunt Sal meant to saddle him with the girl. Keeping her out of sight was the best way to hatch a match, which might just give them some idea what an antidote she was.

The name Cousin Morton arose often. He was Mama’s cousin, a bachelor in very good financial circumstances, and a great fellow. Lucy’s interest was piqued till she learned he resided some miles distant.

All this was interesting to hear, but when it was all told, and he began to tell them the same things again, the ladies found their caller wearying. Subtle hints such as yawns proved ineffective in getting Bigelow to vacate his chair. When the ladies’ jaws began to ache from yawning, it was necessary for Mrs. Percy to declare herself fagged from the trip, and remind Lucy that she was still recuperating and should not stay up too late.

This did get through to Bigelow, and he leapt to his feet as if he had been prodded with a hot poker. “I am the most selfish beast alive,” he apologized. “Just because I have been having the most wonderful evening of my life is no reason to keep you ladies up. I shall pop around tomorrow morning to see if there is anything I can do for you,” he warned.

“Oh, no! You need not put yourself to the bother,” Lucy said swiftly.

“It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Percy. There’s bound to be a leak or a loose window or a door unhinged. The place is falling apart.”

“Now
you tell us, after gouging us five hundred pounds!” she teased.

“By Jove, I’ll ask my uncle to cut your rent.”

Lucy did not think it wise to disturb the miser and said that was not necessary. As she led him to the door, she said, “What we are concerned about, however, is the extent of the land that goes with the building. Is it only the hundred feet or so within the wall of thorn bushes?”

“Eh?”

“That matted tangle of bushes at the back, all covered with thorns. I assume they are thorn bushes,” the chaperon told him.

“I fancy that’s the extent of the land.”

“As the area beyond is not in use, we thought we might put in a vegetable garden,” Mrs. Percy mentioned.

Bigelow, so eager to please in all other areas, failed them here. “I shouldn’t, if I were you. That’s Avedon’s land, you see. My papa built the house, but Avedon wouldn’t give up an inch of land if his life depended on it. But there is plenty of room for a vegetable garden in front.”

The ladies exchanged a defeated look. He saw he had disappointed them and sought how to redeem himself. “I’ll tell you what I will do, is clear away that jumble of bushes for you.”

Lucy remembered the jungle in the back, and said, “You might bring your gun with you. The backyard is full of rabbits.”

“By Jove!” This was an undertaking much to his liking.

Bigelow rode home in a trance. He had not a doubt in the world that he was truly in love this time, and with such a nice, respectable lady that not even Uncle Adrian could find a fault with her. He sent for his head gardener before he retired and told him to take a couple of lads over to rip the bushes out at Rose Cottage, for the ladies wanted to put in a vegetable garden.

“Which bushes?” the gardener asked in alarm.

“The ones in front. I don’t own the land behind.”

“You mean the
rose
bushes, milord?” the gardener asked, aghast. “They’re the making of the place.”

Bigelow scratched his head. He had only half listened to the talk of bushes and thorns. “They can’t eat roses, can they? They want fresh vegetables.”

“But the cottage would be nothing without the roses. Your Aunt Hanna’s roses are famous hereabouts.”

“Just thin the cursed things out, then, and leave a patch for carrots and onions or whatever people grow in a vegetable garden.” The gardener glared. “Dash it, do as I tell you! It’s
my
house, ain’t it?”