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but Suzannah's idiocy must run in the family. "Has the woman approached you?" Emonda sniffed. As if she would have anything to do with such a wanton! A lady was not even supposed to know of the existence of women like that. "Of course not. I think she spoke with Donald once, but naturally he never mentioned the matter to me." "Naturally," Carey echoed dryly, "or you might be able to tell me what they said so I would know how to proceed. No matter, now that Harry is gone I am sure I'll be hearing from her myself. If by some chance the harpy does call, and you can bring yourself to utter the words, tell her Hell will freeze over before a bastard becomes heir to St. Dillon." Chapter Fifteen « ^ » O ne was a hobbledehoy schoolgirl steeped in lending library romances; the other was a young woman so sheltered that she feared any male older than ten and younger than sixty. One was headstrong, the other meek. Neither wanted to stay in Dorset to wait for Carey's "other arrangements." "I just have to go to London, Emmy. I can't bear to let Woody go without me." "And I daren't stay here for your brother to demand I marry." "I won't go back to school." "And I won't be subjected to another insulting call from any of the muslin company. I had the butler tell that woman she must speak to Carey, but what if she calls when the vicar is here? Whatever shall I do?" Suzannah nibbled a gooseberry tart. "Do you really think the little boy is a Delverson? I saw him with his nanny at Mr. Stang's apothecary, when I went to fetch those camphor pastilles for you. I swear Mrs. Stang's eyes almost swiveled right out of her head, she was goggling back and forth between me and the boy so fast. He did look just like that portrait of Carey with his mother that hangs in the gold parlor at home, except that Carey has a smile in the picture, and this little chap seemed to be in a pout the whole time, even when I bought him a licorice stick." "Suzannah, you didn't!" "Well, yes, I did. He might be my nephew or at least my cousin, even if he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. None of it is his fault at any rate." She took another bite. "Did you know that his name is Gareth? Gary, Carey& " "Harry. Or even that other cousin of yours who came that time, Lawrence Fieldstone." "Yes, but don't even mention him in my brother's hearing. The Irish branch is not recognized, you know, and he and Larry have always hated each other." "Oh dear, then Mr. Fieldstone is another, ah& ?" "Like the little boy, yes." Emonda's cup rattled in its saucer. "And the whole village knows that too, I suppose. Oh, why did that wretched man have to go away and leave me to face all of this? I daren't even show my face on the streets." Suzannah chewed her sweet slowly, thinking. A dangerous gleam came to her eyes and her dimples showed. Emonda reached for her vinaigrette, recognizing the signs. "You know, Emmy, how we talked about your going back to London with the new Lord Clyme after he comes to view the property next month?" "Yes, his sister particularly wanted me to visit," Emonda answered uncertainly. "But I hadn't decided." "From what I heard at school, Miss Wimberly is a great gun, not at all high in the instep. You'll like her. And her brother's name has never been connected with the slightest scandal or hellraking." Gabriel Wimberly sounded dull as ditch-water to Suzannah, but she knew what her stepaunt would want to hear. "Perhaps they would not mind if you came for a visit a bit earlier." "Rowanne did invite me for any time I chose, now that she is back from Bath. I suppose I could write." "There's no time, Emmy. Woody leaves in two days and you would not want to travel without a gentleman to accompany you, would you?" "Heavens no, but to just arrive& ?" "It cannot signify. You are the Dowager Lady Clyme; they cannot turn you away at the door." "No, but I should hate to be thought encroaching, dear." Suzannah made herself swallow another morsel and her impatience before saying, "They want you to come, Emmy, and you cannot mean to wait for Carey's return. He might even have some cork-brained notion of moving us all to St. Dillon, you, me, Mrs. Reardon, the b " "I'll go. But what about you, Suzannah? I am sure Lord Gabriel will consider me rag-mannered enough, so my bringing them one more uninvited guest would not make much difference. But Carey would not stand for it, you know. You are his ward, in truth, and he would simply go to London to fetch you back." "Not if he doesn't know where I am," Suzannah said, daintily wiping her mouth. "You'll need to take a maid along, won't you?" Aunt Cora had come to Town with Rowanne after all, despite the lingering agitation of her nerves. No rustic widow was proper chaperone for a girl already bent on developing a hurly-burly reputation, nor could this untonnish Emonda Selcroft person, dowager countess or not, ensure that her niece made a proper marriage. Lady Silber also wanted to consult another physician concerning her condition, on the assumption that sooner or later she would find one whose diagnosis agreed with her own, and whose treatments would recommend the use of spirits to calm her palpitations. Although Town was still somewhat thin of company, Rowanne was pleased to be home, even if Aunt Cora's demands kept the house at sixes and sevens. Rowanne welcomed her brother's companionship and intelligent conversation too, as much as she had of it, with him taking his meals at his club more often than not, to avoid Aunt Cora and prepare for his maiden speech. It was with some trepidation, therefore, that Rowanne stepped into the front drawing room when Pitkin the butler unexpectedly brought in Lady Clyme's calling card, with the corner turned down to indicate a visit in person. Here was another old tartar, Rowanne thought, who believed she could ride roughshod over Miss Wimberly. Rowanne was not one whit relieved to find a small, frail old woman swathed in black, with black hat and veil, sitting rigid in an armchair in front of the Adams fireplace. Her maid stood behind her chair, snuffling into a large handkerchief, her huge mobcap pulled down almost to her eyes and her shapeless gray uniform obscuring the rest of her. Country quizzes, Rowanne concluded, making her curtsy and holding her hand out to her aunt. "My dear aunt Emonda, welcome to Wimberly House." Emonda had lost all of her courage in the carriage ride through the noisy, dirty, crowded streets of the city. By the time she found herself in the imposing mansion, in the elegant room, in the presence of this modish creature, she was speechless with terror. Her maid had to pinch her shoulder, hard. "Ouch! Ah, that is, Miss Wimberly, please, please forgive me for imposing on you this way. I know I should not have, and would not have, except St. Dillon arrived and that awful woman and I shan't wish to marry him at all, and the baby, oh dear." Oh dear indeed. Rowanne could make no sense of the woman's ravings whatsoever, except to realize she had another high-strung female on her hands, and Carey Delverson to thank for it. "Please, ma'am, call me Rowanne. I'll just ring for tea. I am sure you will feel more the thing after, and by then your rooms shall be made ready. My housekeeper, Mrs. Ligett, can show your maid upstairs where she can " "She's sick!" Emonda hurried to say. The tall, sturdy-looking girl behind her coughed for good measure. "And she has to sleep in my room." After giving instructions to the footman who answered her call, Rowanne reasoned, "But, my lady, if she is sick, surely she should have a room of her own in the servants' quarters where she can be looked after. You should not be further exposed to her infections." The maid cleared her throat and Lady Clyme blushed. "No, she is not contagious, and I really need to look after her myself. I, ah, promised her brother before we left." Now the maid's coughs sounded oddly like muffled laughs, as she followed Mrs. Ligett out of the room and up the stairs. "There, my lady, here's tea. Wouldn't you like to take your bonnet off [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ] |