Tuesday's Child (Heroines Born on Each Day of the Week Book 3) (23 page)

“Should I eat you?”

Georgianne giggled. “Be serious, Major Tarrant. Will you join me at the table in my dressing room or in the breakfast parlour?”

“If you are not on the menu, I shall eat in your sanctum.”

When her abigail, entered the bedroom in response to the bell, Georgianne gave her instructions for breakfast to be served.

Alone with Tarrant, she picked up an invitation and a letter.

“You will not believe who this is from.”

“Heart of my heart, please spare me from a guessing game.”

How would he react? “It is from Lady Castleton.”

His grey eyes alert, Rupert frowned. “Pennington’s daughter-in-law?”

“Yes, she has invited us to the ball which the earl is holding to introduce her to society. Her ladyship has also included a letter in which she writes she will be obliged if we attend.”

Tarrant’s eyebrows drew together. “Surely you do not wish to set a foot over that madman’s threshold. Could you ever overlook his proposal of marriage to you for the sake of having an heir? Can you also forget that after we married, to punish you for refusing to become his wife, he kidnapped your youngest sister in an attempt to force you to spend the night with him.” His expressive grey eyes emphasised his anger and disgust. “When his shocking plan failed, the lunatic kidnapped your younger sister in order to force her to marry him. Instead of a son foisted on some unfortunate lady he has a  grandson, so I hope he is content.”

“No, I can never forget Pennington’s outrages. They are why I want to accept the invitation.”

“What!” Like a gunshot the word exploded from Tarrant.

Although Tarrant was the most amiable husband imaginable, nervous, Georgianne nodded to reinforce her explanation. “Yes, I want to attend the ball because Pennington is queer in the attic.”

Tarrant frowned.

Her attempt to make him laugh by the use of slang failed.

Her husband remained on his feet by the bed. “Forgive me for lacking  the intelligence to understand.”

“There is no need to be sarcastic, for there is nothing wrong with your powers of reasoning.”

Tarrant’s lips twitched in a palpable attempt to hold back amusement. “Thank you for the crumbs of praise from your table.”

Exasperated, Georgianne did not respond to his overture. “I shall explain. Lady Castleton, wrote she has particular matters to discuss with me. Ones she does not care to express in writing.” Georgianne patted the bed. “Tarrant, please sit down, and try to understand why I want to see her.”

He sat, with obvious reluctance, deep lines furrowed across his forehead. How could she convince him to accept the hospitality of a man he despised? She peeped sideways at him. His expression remained hard. “Tarrant, since I introduced Lady Castleton and her son to the earl, I have often asked myself if I should have made an alternative arrangement for them. The ball will give me the opportunity to find out if all goes well with her and Lord Castleton, although I fear from the tone of her letter, it does not.

Georgianne risked looking at him in the hope her mention of Lady Castleton’s situation softened the deep lines on his face. “After all, her ladyship’s late husband lost his life in the service of his king and country.”

Had she begun a battle she could not win?

“He died before I transferred to The Glory Boys,” Tarrant interrupted.

“Even so, surely you will acknowledge you should ensure a Glory Boy’s widow and orphan are comfortably situated,  and who could be at ease under Pennington’s roof?”

Her husband’s face had not relaxed? No. She sighed. If she strengthened her attack, she might convince him. “Tarrant, perhaps her Lady Castleton’s personal invitation is a cry for help. Could you forgive yourself for ignoring it if a tragedy occurred? You think Pennington is a madman. Who knows how he might treat his defenceless daughter-in-law and grandson? I cannot bear the thought of it.”

Tarrant glared at her with darkened eyes that predicted an outburst. “Damnation, sorry for swearing, Georgie, do you expect me to pretend I don’t bear a grudge, no, much more than a grudge, against the maniac when I think of what might have happened to you or your sisters?”

With apparent artlessness she dabbed her dry eyes with a dainty handkerchief. “Yes, I do expect you to pretend, because you have a kinder heart than that of any other gentleman I know. If my kind-hearted father, had survived the war, he would tell you to do the right thing.”

“Damn it, don’t start crying, Georgie. Oh, my apology for swearing again. I know you still grieve for your father.”

Yes, even now she still missed her beloved father who died fighting against the French in the Iberian Peninsula. Eyes wide, she gazed at Tarrant, with the hope he would not counter-attack.  “An officer of your calibre should protect the innocent.”

“You need not repeat yourself, Madam.”

Georgianne clasped her hands together. “Please imagine what you would expect a fellow officer to do should I and our son be in similar circumstances.”

“How in God’s name do you so frequently manage to outmanoeuvre me?”

Georgianne smiled, amused by his question, which she did not answer. “I knew you are too kind to refuse to attend the ball to find out if Lady Castleton needs our assistance.” Regardless of disarranging the piles of correspondence on the coverlet, Georgianne cast herself into her husband’s arms and hugged him. “I admire you more than anyone else I know.”

He laughed, holding her close. “Are you certain you wish to accept Pennington’s hospitality?”

“Under other circumstances I would never choose to.” Triumphant, she smiled. “However, he is already under an obligation to me for introducing him to his daughter-in-law and grandson. What better retribution can I serve him than by making him squirm when my presence reminds him of it?”

“Heart of my heart, before I married you I never imagined being any lady’s devoted slave.” Tarrant shook his head, and waved a finger at her. “Come to think of it, I did not know you are so devious.”

Georgianne took a deep breath. And he did not know the extent of her artfulness. Later, she would tell him they would spend two nights under the earl’s roof. Even f he erupted, spewing metaphorical lava, she would express remorse, her determination to help Harriet would not waver.

* * *

With Bessie in charge of the nursery, and Harriet’s resolution to wrest jurisdiction of her son from the earl, Arthur’s conduct improved. Well aware her son never wasted an opportunity to try to manipulate his grandfather, to minimise it, Harriet continued to ride with Arthur and her father-in-law before breakfast. She also supervised his lessons. However, excitement over the forthcoming ball spread from the basement to the attics. Today, Arthur plagued her with innumerable questions instead of paying attention to his book.

“No more questions about the ball, Arthur. See if you can read these words,” Harriet said, soon after her return from the Rectory.

Their heads bent over the book on the escritoire in her dressing room, Arthur sighed. “Mamma, I did. my sums, and now I am too tired for any more lessons.”

“I shall tell Bessie to serve your dinner early. After you have eaten it, she will put you to bed.”

Her son thrust his jaw out, and pressed his lips into a mutinous line.

“You may choose whether to read or return to the nursery.”

Arthur looked down at his favourite book the tale of Cock Robin’s marriage to Jenny Wren. “C, o, c, k, he sounded.” He frowned. “R, o, b, i, n.” He looked up at her. “Cock Robin.”

Harriet patted his dimpled hand. “Excellent.”

After fifteen minutes, she closed the book. “I am proud of your for reading so well.”

Arthur stood and wound his arms around her neck. “Grandfather says I will meet some of his visitors before the ball. Please say I may.”

So, her boy was beginning to realise, where he was concerned, the earl’s decisions were not final. Triumphant, she smiled fondly at him. “Yes, you may.”

“Mamma. Grandfather told me I am going to meet my aunts and some of my cousins.”

So, her father-in-law wanted to introduce his heir to relations and those guests, who would stay overnight at Clarencieux. She hoped the Tarrants would be among them.

“Please, say yes, Mamma.”

How could she resist the heartfelt plea? She turned sideways on her chair. “Yes.”

Arthur clambered onto her lap. “Thank you, oh, thank you. Will my aunts like me?”

“I am sure they will.” Again she asked herself what her sisters-in-law’s reaction to them would be.

Her husband only mentioned his much older sisters on rare occasions. On one, he remarked. ‘They might have benefitted if our father read and put into practice, Mary Wollstonecraft’s book Thoughts on the Education of Daughters.’

“Edgar!” she exclaimed. “I did not know you are familiar with her book.”

Her husband shrugged. “All I shall say is when both of my sisters married, they were glad to escape from Father’s strict discipline.”

“What of your mother?”

“I wish I could remember her. Anyway, according to my older brother, if my father had read, and been favourably influenced by Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Women, my parents’ marriage might have been happier.”

It seemed she questioned him only yesterday when she had asked. “Have you read both books?”

“Yes, my brother interested himself in such matters. He recommended them.” With a self-depreciatory smile, he added. “I could never treat you or any children we may have with my father’s severity.as severity.”

Her thoughtful, tender husband would have been an excellent father. Tears gathered in her eyes. She brushed them away before Arthur noticed them.

Harriet hugged their precious son and kissed his rounded cheeks, so different to his hollow ones when  they first met the earl. Every day, she thanked God for Arthur’s restored health. Perhaps, in spite of her father-in-law’s faults she should be more grateful to him.

“Mamma, you will be the most beautiful lady at the ball.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, but I doubt it.”

“You will, because you have the kindest eyes in the world.”

Sometimes he amazed her. She held him a little closer.

A tap on the door announced Bessie’s arrival to take Arthur back to the nursery. He slid off her lap and, after she assured him she would bid him goodnight to him before he went to sleep, he left with his hand in Bessie’s.

Time to change her gown before she dined with the earl. In her dressing room, while Plymouth unfastened buttons and ties, Harriet wondered what impression her sisters-in-law, Lady Margaret and Lady Isabel would form of her. Daughters of an earl, would they be arrogant, because they considered her almost beneath their notice? Perhaps both of them feared they and their children would be deprived if their father also bequeathed everything that was not entailed to Arthur.

She sat at her dressing table to allow Plymouth to arrange her hair in a knot on the crown of her head, and to coax glossy, pomaded curls into place across her forehead and around her cheeks.

Plymouth tucked fragrant white roses into her hair. “Your pearls, my lady?”

Harriet nodded, almost overwhelmed by the thought of meeting her sisters-in-law and other relatives by marriage. More than likely they would not welcome her into the family. She sat straighter while Plymouth fastened the pearl necklace, part of the suite her father-in-law presented to her. Well, whatever they might think of her, she would not allow them to intimidate her.

Pearl earrings and arm clasps in place, Harriet put on her elbow length  white gloves. A glance in the pier mirror between the tall windows, reflected her silk gown, the colour of cream. Not a beauty, she decided, no one could fault either her deportment or her clothes. And, she thought, aware of her blush, I know Mister Markham admires me.

“If I may say so, my lady,” Plymouth began, “you do me credit.”

Astonished, Harriet turned around. “I beg your pardon.”

“It is a pleasure to serve a lady dressed in the latest fashion.”

“Thank you,” Harriet replied, unable to think of anything else to say.

While Plymouth busied herself putting away discarded articles of clothing, Harriet went to the nursery, where she said goodnight to Arthur, before she made her way to the drawing room.

The earl inclined his head to her. “Ah, my child, a word before we dine. You are to oversee the arrangements for my guests’ accommodation,  and other matters such as ensuring there are fresh flowers throughout the abbey. Also, pay particular attention to the ballroom, around which I have arranged for ornamental plants in pots besides garlands of flowers and greenery on the walls.

“I shall do attend to it, Papa.” Her cheeks burned with annoyance. She wished her father-in-law phrased his demands as requests instead of orders.

* * *

During the week before the ball, Harriet resented the duties the earl assigned to her, ones which his secretary, steward and butler could have undertaken. Every time she sat down to write the next chapter of her book, or decided to visit Mister Markham to find out whether he had received a reply from the attorney, she received another instruction from the earl.