What About Cecelia? (7 page)

“George! What are you doing? You startled our
horse.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't see you.”

“You should have looked.”

“I was just up enjoying the air and the view on
Holy Mountain. Thought I'd come back to see how the search for a
horse was going.”

Jane sulked, “Not well. We didn't find any. But
Miss Wood is going to tutor that Somerset girl.”

“One of Lord Charles Somerset's daughters. Good
for her.”

“I wasn't invited.”

“Oh that's a shame. I guess we'll have
Penyclawdd to ourselves for a few days. That should be
amusing.”

“Is that what it will be like when we're
married?”

“I suppose so, except when we invite
company.”

“We'll have company often, won't we?”

“I'd expect so. Jane, I'm sure we have a horse
you can ride if you want. I'm no mean bit myself. It would be my
pleasure to tutor you.”

Julia interjected with a smile, “I didn't know
you could ride side-saddle Captain Wood.”

“I suppose I could, but I don't. Horses are
horses, however you ride them. I'm sure I can teach riding even if
I use a different saddle.”

“See Jane? These things have a way of working
out. You'll get your riding lessons after all, and Captain Wood is
a skilled horseman.”

“As long as he's sober.”

“I'm skilled even when I'm drunk, but I'm
staying sober now. Mr. Landor is right that getting drunk doesn't
help with the memories. They just come back harder with the morning
head.”

The Honorable Mary Georgiana Somerset escorted
Cecelia away from the horse fair to their hall. The hall was a
large house at one end of Raglan, where Castle road met Monmouth
road and the start of the town's high street. She asked, “Are you
sure that you would like teach me to ride well?”

“Why not? It gets me away from Captain Wood and
his fiancée, Miss Arnold. I'm in their way all the time.”

“You don't mean Miss Jane Arnold, do you?”

“Why?”

“Poor fellow. Caught by that man-trap. She was
called 'Lady Nero' or 'the Vampyre' by the ton. The 'on-dit' has it
that this isn't the first man that she's managed to ensnare. The
last one twisted free.”

“Are we talking about the same Jane Arnold? The
Jane I know can be a bit snappy when she's out of sorts, but I
think her heart's in the right place. We usually get on.”

“If she has a heart, from what I've heard. My
Jane Arnold is shorter than you, has darker hair, and a much more
developed figure. The woman who was with you looked just like
her.”

“She did sweep the Captain off his feet when he
arrived from Spain.”

“As I said, poor man. Though I suppose it's
possible that she improves on further acquaintance.”

“I'm sure you're being unfair to her.”

“If you say so. You must know her better than I
do. I'll have to send to Penyclawdd for your good clothes. Don't
worry about tonight, as my father likes to see the distinction in
rank preserved, but you really should wear your good clothes to
dinner.”

“These are my good clothes. At least some of
them, maybe not my best, best clothes.”

“Oh dear. We'll have to see what we can do for
you before you go to Bath.”

“Why?”

“Mr. King won't let you into the assembly if
you're dressed like such a dowdy frump.”

Somehow Cecelia found herself feeling less
sympathetic to the Honorable Miss Mary Georgiana Somerset. It
showed in her expression.

“I can see that you're upset at what I'm saying.
Please don't be. I'm sure you're dressed in the best clothes you
have. How often have you been to Bath?”

“Once when I was eight.”

“Well no wonder your clothes are so far out of
style. Living here in the wilds of Wales, you'd never see the
current mode let alone have a dress made by a modish mantua
maker.”

“Miss Somerset, horses don't care about
style.”

“Please call me Georgie, everyone does. Is it
fine if I call you Cecelia?”

“Yes Georgie. Why Georgie?”

“My father and mother thought I was going to be
a boy, and they promised to name me after our King. So I was
christened 'Mary Georgiana'.”

“Could have been worse, had they named you after
the Princess of Wales, Caroline.”

“Thank God they didn't. I was presented to her
once, you know. She smelt like a horse. No, I take that back, my
horses smell better than she did.”

“Speaking of horses, why don't we stop in your
stables? I'd love to see your mount.”

“I think the stables are this way. Usually my
groom, Charles, just brings her out saddled and ready to ride.”

“That won't do while you're learning. Once you
know horses, you can figure out your mount quickly, but you need to
know horses first.”

“What do you mean?”

“One horse is much like any other horse, though
each has its own few quirks and peculiarities. A good horsewoman
knows what to expect the horse to do before the horse does it.
You'll see once we get started.”

They found the stables, and the next problem
arose. There were more than two or three horses. Cecelia asked,
“Which is yours?”

“I don't know.”

One of the grooms walked over and interrupted
them, “Miss Somerset, what are your looking for?”

“My horse, and one for Miss Wood.”

“If you would wait by the house, I'll bring them
out.”

Cecelia put a stop to that, “No, if you'd
please, I'd like Miss Somerset to meet her mount in its stable and
work with her a little before we ride.”

“That's highly unusual. I'll have to ask Sir
Charles for his permission.”

“I'm teaching your mistress to ride, and my
first lesson is for her to be familiar with her mare. She needs to
build confidence with the horse. To understand what it is
thinking.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that.” He
shooed them out of the stables adding as his Parthian shot “Minding
them horses is my task, Miss.”

Mary pointed out to Cecelia, “Since your other
clothes haven't arrived yet, it's best if you don't get too dirty.
There's nothing for you to change into.”

“True. I suppose Sir Charles objects to the
smell of horses in the dinner room.”

“Father doesn't care at all, but my mother will
turn up her nose at it.”

“I'll approach him about getting access to your
mare.”

“Are you sure? She twitches in ways that always
surprise me.”

“That's why I want you to handle her yourself.
Horses often twitch, and when they don't twitch they shy. It
shouldn't be a surprise when they do.”

As they assembled in the drawing room before
entering this fine room, Sir Charles welcomed her, and pointed out
that as a 'family meal' everyone was in their informal dress.
Cecelia blurted out, “Your informal dress is much more elegant than
my best.”

He replied, with a cryptic bit of a smile, “I do
like to have the distinctions of rank preserved.” Then he quickly
changed the subject, “Did you have a chance to start on the riding
lessons? Georgie is so looking forward to dazzling the fair riders
when she has her next season in the village.”

“The village?”

“London.”

“Not really. Your groom wouldn't let Miss
Somerset and me look at her horse. I'd like her to work with it
herself.”

“You can call her Georgie here.”

“It was probably for the best, because I'd smell
even more strongly of horse than I do. Not having a change of
dress.”

Lady Elizabeth asked, “Why does my daughter need
to look at her horse? Isn't it enough that she wants to ride
them?”

“In order to control your horse, you need to
know how it will react. How it thinks.”

“Do horses think?”

“After their own fashion.”

Sir Charles inserted, “Dean Swift thought so,
with his Yahoo's and Houyhnhmns.”

Cecelia welcomed the turn to the literary, “I've
been reading Byron's latest poems from the circulating
library.”

“The library in Abergavenny stocks '
Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage
'? That's not even out in London. There's
already a list of subscribers for it.”

“I was thinking of '
Hours of Idleness
'. I
suppose it isn't his latest. But they'll have it as soon as it is
available.”

“Still, it is Byron. Even his older poems are
worth repeated examination.”

Lady Elizabeth intoned, “I like Mr. Landor's
work. It is so monumental and learned. Not like this modern
romantic claptrap.”

Cecelia replied, “I like Mr. Landor better than
his poetry. He's one of my neighbors and been so helpful with Mr.
Wood. If I have a problem on the farm, he's always there to
help.”

“Is that implied criticism of his poetry?”

“Oh no! Not at all. I've just had a surfeit of
it. He'll recite his poetry for any reason at any time.
Occasionally it gets rather tedious.”

Georgie spoke, “I can't believe that a surfeit
of poetry is possible.”

“Oh, trust me. It is.”

Sir Charles changed the subject, “How is Captain
Wood, by the way? I should write to Fitzroy soon, and I'm sure he
would like to hear of him.”

“He's still a bit disturbed, poor man. Much
better than when he arrived. Now he's staying sober.”

“I hope he's not one of those blasted
tea-totalers. Can't abide them.”

“I didn't mean that. Just when we met he was
always drunk, even in the mornings. Now he isn't.”

Dinner was a struggle for Cecelia. The dining
room, with its long polished table, footmen, bright chandeliers and
elegant service, was a far cry from the modest fittings at home in
Penyclawdd. There was usually one course at Penyclawdd, and a place
setting with limited utensils. It was a good meal, but served
simply. Even a simple family meal at the Somersets involved several
courses and a complex etiquette for the different eating utensils
and glasses. Cecelia was completely lost, but fortunately no one
seemed to notice her missteps. Or at least if they did they were
too kind to remark on them.

Until later. Sir Charles and his wife Elizabeth
discussed the Cecelia's performance before they retired for the
night. Unlike so many of their peers, they had made a love match.
They were still in love these many years later and unconventionally
still shared the same bed.

“At least she didn't eat with her fingers.”

“Are you sure she is a suitable companion for
Georgie?”

“Oh yes, but I do think we'll have to teach her
better manners.”

“And that dress, how dreadful. Like it was
pieced together at random.”

“Funny thing that. Did you notice she came back
from riding that horrible mare wearing Captain Wood's coat?”

“No, but what of it?”

“I think her habit was ruined. She is wearing
what she, that Arnold female and Mrs. Landor pieced together.”

“But still, Charles, she seems so
untutored.”

“She is. Poor Sir Giles, he lost his wife so
young and then because of his health he couldn't bring his daughter
into society like he should have. She comes from good stock, but
she's lived away from society for so long.”

“I suppose you're right. Did I hear correctly
that she's planning a visit to Bath soon?”

“That Jane Arnold and Captain Wood will take her
there, to find a husband.”

“Then perhaps it is a godsend that she is
visiting us. Can we give her some polish and perhaps buff out a few
of the roughest edges?”

“I hope so. I do want to see what she can do for
Georgie.”

“I wish you would refer to our daughter as
Mary.”

“I'll try. She likes being called Georgie.”

“Her name is Mary.”

“Yes, my love.”

“If Miss Wood can teach Mary to be comfortable
on horseback, I'll do what I can about her appearance and manners.
It's something of a pity that the awful Arnold woman has ensnared
Captain Wood into matrimony. Somehow, I can't see Miss Wood staying
with them for very long after they're married.”

I wonder how Captain Wood puts up with her.”

“Who?”

“Miss Arnold.”

Sir Charles wasn't the only one wondering about
Captain Wood as they prepared for bed. Cecelia found herself in a
spare bedroom, using a borrowed brush to brush out her hair while
the maid warmed her bed with a warming pan. “I wonder what he's
doing now.”

“Who Miss?”

Cecelia replied out loud, “Oh, no one,” while
thinking of Captain Wood. She continued, “I wonder if he misses
me?”

“If it's no one, Miss, why should he?”

Cecelia shook her head, “I'm sorry, my mind is
wandering. I must be tired.”

“If you say so Miss. Your bed is warm and
well-aired, if you'd like to retire.”

“Thank you.”

Lady Elizabeth received a shock when she emerged
from her room in mid-morning to break her fast. Her butler caught
her attention, “Ma'am, Miss Wood is missing. Did she leave word
with you?”

“Missing?”

“She wasn't in her room when her maid went to
bring her morning chocolate.”

“She didn't say anything to me or Sir Charles
about leaving. Was the rest of her kit still there?”

“I can't say, since she borrowed most of
it.”

“Maybe Mary will know something.”

At breakfast neither Mary Georgiana, nor Sir
Charles nor Charlotte Augusta, nor Charles Henry and finally not
even Villiers knew anything about where Cecelia was. Sir Charles
was about to mount a search party when Cecelia walked into the
room. She was more than slightly redolent of the stables. Seeing
them all staring at her, she stuttered out, “I-I-I was looking at
your horses. Seeing the barns and stables. Your groom reluctantly
showed me Mary's horse and one I could borrow. Is anything
wrong?”

“Is that what you always do?”

“Check the animals first thing in the morning?
Of course. It's the best time of the day to do it, while they're
still calm and cool.”