Part 9 (1/2)
”Heavens, no,” said his mother. ”He acts just as he ought, dividing his attention equally amongst them, though he has no more success than Jonathan with little Miss Davis, I fear. Did I not tell you that Louise would bring the shyest thing in nature?”
”You did, ma'am. So far, your predictions have all proved correct. I am looking forward to a demonstration of Lady Catherine's many talents.”
Lord James and Mr. Swanson were bearing down on Sarah. Just as they reached her, Gossett announced that a luncheon buffet was laid out in the dining room. Mr. Swanson gallantly requested the pleasure of escorting Sarah. Lord James, foiled, turned purple, gasped something that might have been ”honoured,” and offered his hostess his arm. Accepting, she beamed at him and patted his hand kindly.
Sarah refused to allow the fact that she was three inches taller than Mr. Swanson to disconcert her. It was a situation she had met with before.
”Let me show you how to do this, Miss Meade,” he said with a conspiratorial grin as they entered the dining room. ”I shall seat you at the far end of the table. As we pa.s.s the sideboard, you must study it and point out your favourite dishes. Then I shall dash back and fill a plate for you while everyone else is still milling about.”
”I see you have your strategy well prepared, sir. If you had been in charge of provisioning the army, I daresay we should have beaten Boney years since.” Sarah looked at the array of cold meats, pies, salads, pastries and fruit and remembered the trout with green peas and the mutton pasties Mrs. Hicks had served to Adam. ”Heavens, I don't know where to begin! A slice of ham, I think, and one of those rolls. But how can I choose between strawberries and raspberries?”
”I shall bring you some of each,” Mr. Swanson promised, ”with plenty of cream.”
He rushed off, and Sarah looked about at the other guests. Jonathan had brought in Miss Davis and was bending over her solicitously. Miss Brennan was looking coyly up at Adam and protesting that she never ate luncheon, it was so bad for the figure, but she would take a few cherries and a morsel of salmon in aspic, just to please him.
”I saw the breakfast tray she had taken up to her room,” murmured Lord James in Sarah's ear, then turned crimson and strode off. He returned with a plate piled high with roast beef, ham and pigeon pie, which he set before Lady Cheverell. She almost disappeared behind it but smiled bravely and thanked him.
Lady Catherine was looking decidedly disgruntled. Sarah realized that she had been forced, for want of an escort, to join Mary and her husband. She recovered her countenance on being seated beside Adam. Her lively repartee soon drew the viscount's attention from Miss Brennan, who seemed to have little conversation. However, his eyes frequently strayed back to that young lady.
”Adam needs two wives,” said Mr. Swanson. ”The one to look at and t'other to listen to. Pity we can't somehow combine the pair of 'em.”
”I expect two wives would suit him very well,” Sarah answered tartly, then recollecting to whom she was speaking, she hastily changed the subject. He was right, though. Adam was laughing at something Lady Catherine had said even as his gaze slipped back to the beauty on his other side. Poor little Miss Davis had no chance against her rivals. Sarah was glad to see that the child was blossoming a little under Jonathan's kind attention.
On his way to the sideboard, Adam pa.s.sed behind her chair. Stooping, he said mournfully, ”No gooseberry fool,” and grinned at her.
Sarah looked after him in indignation. She had missed Mrs. Hicks's gooseberry fool after accusing him of wanting to set up a harem. The wretch was roasting her.
After luncheon the party split up. Jane went to rest in her chamber, so Lord Bradfield disappeared to the billiard room with Mary's and Louise's husbands. The abandoned wives dragged their mother off to the small drawing room to tell her all about her grandchildren. Eliza and Lord Moffatt vanished to some private corner.
The rest repaired to the large drawing room. Sarah took a seat beside Miss Davis, Lady Catherine drifted to the pianoforte, and Miss Brennan adopted a languid pose on a loveseat. Lord James looked around with a hunted expression, mumbled ”billiards,” and turned to flee.
Adam caught him by the arm. ”No you don't, Kerry,” he ordered. ”Go and look at Miss Brennan.”
”Miss Meade?” pleaded Kerry. ”Conversable female, Miss Meade.”
”Miss Brennan. You don't have to talk to her, just look at her.”
Sarah, who had overheard every word, caught Adam's eye. She had to concentrate very hard to keep from laughing.
Adam stayed talking to Jonathan, while Mr. Swanson did his duty by joining Lady Catherine. Sarah turned to Miss Davis.
”Do you live near Louise?” she enquired.
”Yes, ma'am. Lady Edward has been very good to me.” The soft voice was dubious.
”Perhaps you feel a little strange so far from home with no relative to support you?”
”I am not much used to company, and I do not know very well how to go on.”
”I thought you must have had your Season in London already.”
”Oh no!” Miss Davis's brown eyes filled with horror at the thought. ”I mean, though I am eighteen, Papa does not care for London society, and anyway, Mama is too busy with the children to take me.”
”You have many brothers and sisters?”
Sarah was treated to an enthusiastic description of a horde of small half brothers and sisters, for ”Mama,” it seemed, was Miss Davis's stepmother. ”Papa,” Baron Davis of Clwyd, was more interested in his horses and hounds than in finding a husband for his eldest daughter. Both had been delighted by Lady Edward's invitation to Cheve House.
Lydia-Miss Davis begged Sarah to call her thus and shyly agreed to reciprocate-not only missed the children but feared that the younger ones might forget their letters during her absence. Sarah told her about the school she meant to start.
”What a splendid idea! How I should like to do something like that.”
”Adam means to support it financially. He is the most generous of gentlemen.”
”You have known Lord Cheverell forever, have you not? He is very handsome and das.h.i.+ng. I am sure he thinks me a complete ninnyhammer, for I have not the least notion what to say to him. Your brother is much easier to talk to.”
”It is Jonathan's business to be easy to talk to. Do not he afraid of Adam, I beg of you. He is as kind as Jonathan in his way.”
”I shall try not to be,” said Lydia obediently.
Adam came up to them at that moment, it being Miss Davis's turn for her share of his attention. Sarah mentioned that the girl was teaching her siblings to read and he took the hint. As she went to listen to Lady Catherine's performance of a Scarlatti sonata, she had the satisfaction of leaving Lydia happily chatting about his lords.h.i.+p's orphanages.
It was a hollow satisfaction.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
Following a formal dinner, the evening was spent at cards and word games. Lady Catherine excelled at the latter, producing clever verses on any subject at a moment's notice, which was certainly why Mary had insisted on playing that particular game. Adam was amused, but Sarah doubted that a talent for rhyme was what he looked for in a wife.
When the tea tray was brought in, Jonathan asked for the gig to be brought round in half an hour. He and Sarah made their farewells, and Lady Cheverell a.s.sured them that she would bring most if not all of the party to church the next morning.
”Mary has planned a musical evening on Monday,” she went on. ”I do hope you will come, for if it is nothing but Couperin and Haydn I shall fall asleep.”
Adam escorted them into the hall, where they found Wrigley hovering, apparently concealing something behind his back.
”My lord?” the valet said diffidently. ”I believe your lords.h.i.+p has forgotten...”
”Oh yes, thank you, Wrigley.” The viscount took the small package wrapped in brown paper tied with string. ”Sarah, I brought you a little present from London. Don't open it till you get home, but be careful, it is breakable.”
Fl.u.s.tered, Sarah accepted the gift and expressed somewhat confused grat.i.tude. He had never given her anything before, or at least, not since her tenth birthday. She still had the crooked wooden horse he had carved for her on that momentous occasion. Wondering what was in the package, hoping that the contents would enlighten her as to Adam's motive in giving it, she answered at random Jonathan's comments on their visit as he drove back to the vicarage.
Taking her candle from the hall table, she hurried up to her chamber. She sat down at her dressing table and set the package beside the candle, with a sudden curious unwillingness to discover what it contained. If it was fragile, it could not be jewellery. Of course Adam's sense of propriety, though flexible, would not permit a gift of jewellery to a lady to whom he was not related. Too wide and short for a fan. Surely not a porcelain figurine: he knew her lack of interest in frivolous ornaments which had to be dusted.
She took it up and weighed it in her hand. It was quite heavy for its size. Laughing at herself for dallying, she untied the string, and unwrapped a cut-gla.s.s bottle.
Lotion of the Ladies of Denmark. Sarah had heard of it, a fas.h.i.+onable preparation for preventing wrinkles and softening rough skin. Her lips trembling, she studied her face in the gla.s.s. It was browner than it ought to be, but there was no trace of a wrinkle that she could find. Why had Adam given it to her?
Then she recalled his final gesture before he left for London. He had kissed her hand. She had treasured the moment, aware of her own foolishness but never guessing that all he remembered of it was her work-roughened skin. A single tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it away angrily, eased the stopper from the bottle and poured a little of the lotion into the palm of her hand.