Chapter 12 #3
He adjusted his reins and brushed a glance over his shoulder. “I am composing a sermon. In the churchly dialect, that means I’ve abandoned my wife with the infantry while I enjoy a beautiful winter morning on horseback.”
“Derry is still teething?”
“Caldicott, the little darlings never stop teething. The first few months aren’t bad.
No teeth. But about half a year into the proposition, the misery begins, and with the new teeth comes a runny nose, inflamed ears, sleepless nights, and a wife who regards one as if he’s Beelzebub’s nasty brother.
And this is only the start for the baby.
And the teeth are tiny, the barest gesture in the direction of dentition. Lord, deliver me from teething babies.”
Self-restraint would deliver him from teething babies. “Do you truly need a sermon topic?” The Sabbath was only two days away.
“One never needs sermon topics. Human foibles are so numerous that discoursing upon them is an endless monologue. We have the seven deadly sins, the commandments, the beatitudes, the Sermon on the Mount… so much material with which to chide the faithful, and if all that is unavailing, for variety we can turn to the evils of rum, tobacco, and sugar.”
“You’re an abolitionist?” Most thinking people were, at least in public, while better than half the aristocracy enjoyed wealth built on the slave trade.
“I am, I hope, a decent if flawed human being. I tend to avoid haranguing from the pulpit over the holidays, but then the dolorous weeks of Lent loom, and one can be a bit more admonitory. This week, I’ll stick to the duty to look forward in hope with courage and faith.
Ring in the New Year, put the past behind us, and so forth.
But as to the immediate past, I understand you had some misfortune on the footbridge last evening. ”
He probably knew the extent of my bruising, the exact hour at which Algernon had escorted me to my rooms, and what Mrs. MacIntyre had prescribed by way of treatment.
“Nothing of any moment. I slipped on the icy planks, banged my head on the railing, and am none the worse for my clumsiness.”
He turned on me a scowl reminiscent of the baron.
“That damned bridge is unsafe, but putting up a proper bridge takes lumber and labor. Every winter, somebody twists an ankle or loses their footing, and we vow to address the situation. No less person than Mrs. Fipps has come to grief on that bridge. Then spring arrives, and nothing is done.”
“Spring is a busy time.”
The hounds were in full cry, still to the east.
“We will be up until all hours tonight at the banquet,” Peter said, “and yet, his lordship is awake at the crack of doom, harassing the hapless fox. It’s hard to disagree with Lady Clotilda’s assessment of Dunsford at times.”
We emerged from the trees to behold her ladyship’s dwelling. In the morning light, Glen Maye’s golden facade gleamed, and the pine swagging adorning the portico lent the place a jolly air.
“Her ladyship says the baron is hunt mad?” I suggested.
“Or just plain mad. She claims a vein of mental unsoundness runs through the Carstairs family. She never says it too loudly, and I only know because Robin has told me, but her ladyship’s enmity for Dunsford is threaded through with a sort of grudging pity.
A ‘they can’t help themselves,’ ‘they know not what they do’ sort of thing. ”
Interesting. “You are a Carstairs. Do you believe her?”
The sad Carstairs smile made an appearance.
“We are all capable of madness, my lord. Sometimes it’s the madness of first love, the madness of failing faculties, or the madness of the battlefield, but with the right provocation, we can all behave contrary to tenets we’ve espoused passionately.
Forgiveness is a very handy concept on such occasions. ”
True enough. Love thy neighbor counted for nothing when French cuirassiers were charging an infantry square.
Peter drew his horse to a halt. “I’ll leave you here, if you don’t mind. My conscience troubles me if I take too long composing my horseback sermons. I’m due for a shift in the schoolroom today, and one shirks that duty at peril to the domestic peace.”
I wished him well and continued across the park, unsure if the exchange had signified much of anything, except that Peter Carstairs had been wandering the woods without any stated reason for doing so, he knew the bridge was dangerous, and he was no stranger to a guilty conscience.
But then, apparently every soul in the shire knew to take care with that footbridge.
I put aside those frustrations and joined my beloved in Lady Clotilda’s winter parlor. Hyperia’s greeting to me was friendly but subdued, as was mine to her. The other women were apparently having a lie-in, though Hyperia and I did stop by the nursery to see how Leander fared.
“I have a letter!” he said, waving a piece of paper around. “Uncle Julian, I have a letter from the Keep. A written letter!”
Miss Hunter, his governess, smiled patiently. “A note from Master Atticus.”
“You can read it.” Leander shoved his treasure at me, and I made a production out of holding it up to the window and examining both sides of the paper.
“Atticus thanks you for your courage and bravery,”—curage and brafery—“on the occasion of his unfortunate adventure. He hopes to be able to return the good deed, should you ever need rescuing.”
What a lovely, gentlemanly gesture, and Atticus had said nary a word to me about it.
“Atticus has good handwriting,” Leander said. “He spells some words differently from how I spell them.”
“Spelling is an art,” Miss Hunter said. “Let’s get back to your words for today, shall we?”
Leander made a face, carefully folded his letter, and set it on the mantel. “I’m to come over to the Keep this evening to see the ballroom. Everybody in the world comes.”
“Good. We’ll see you then, and if you want to pen a note to Atticus, I’ll happily carry that back with me when Miss West and I have finished our ride.”
His eyes lit with ambition, and Miss Hunter made a shooing motion with her hand at her side.
Everywhere, women giving me orders. Was I not the most fortunate of men to enjoy such abundant supervision?
Hyperia took me by the arm, and we quit the schoolroom.
“Leander isn’t the only person receiving correspondence,” Hyperia said, leading me toward the stairs.
“Lady Ophelia replied to my letter by express.” She paused on the landing and smoothed the lapel of my jacket.
“Long, long ago, there was talk that Lady Clo would become Lady Dunsford, but the baron—he was the heir at the time—chose a bride with bigger settlements and less social standing. One who even had some convoluted family connection to Lady Clo. Dunsford never overtly courted Lady Clo and never offered for her, but Society expected them to marry.”
I had once expected Hyperia to marry me in the same fashion. An assumption rather than a decision backed by any evidence. What fools these mortals be. Harry had known of the assumption, because I’d discussed it with him frequently.
“What else did Godmama have to say?”
“You can read the letter when we finish our ride,” Hyperia said. “For the next hour, Julian, might we enjoy the fresh air and leave more difficult issues to the side?”
“We can.” I did not want to. I wanted the whole situation with Hyperia analyzed, labeled, resolved, and done. Mission complete. Report submitted. Awaiting subsequent orders.
She likely wanted to put off even further mention of what had passed between us the previous day, much less what had passed between her and Harry.
“You capitulated to my request too easily,” she said as we stopped in the foyer to finish bundling up.
We were in the relative privacy of the chilly outdoors before she took my arm again and accompanied me down the terrace steps.
“Tell me about last night’s mishap on the bridge, Jules.
I was assured you came to no serious harm, but if anybody is surefooted on all terrain, it’s you. ”
Clearly, Algernon hadn’t alarmed the ladies, but neither had he kept the matter as confidential as I’d hoped.
“I was pushed,” I said, rather than attempt to dissemble. “I don’t think I was meant to perish, but my head struck the railing, and I nearly came off the bridge.”
“Hence the angle to your hat?”
“Hence the odd angle to my hat, the soreness of my hip, and a towering vexation with this whole inquiry. My assailant was a man or a tall woman, based on evidence, and apparently the entire parish knows the bridge is treacherous in winter.”
“I certainly took care using it. What does Bryson have to say about this?”
“I have avoided him since yesterday. He’ll tell me to desist and resign himself to permanent exile, but, Perry, far more is going on here than a simple grudge against a former soldier for past wrongdoing.”
“So it would seem. Lady Clotilda is all that is pleasant, but even the duchess has remarked that much goes unsaid, and many glances pass between the Misses Delaplane, Miss Quiggan, and her ladyship. Freddy Delaplane is half soused half the time, in possession of a very pleasant estate, and yet, he doesn’t seem inclined to court anybody either. ”
On that disquieting note, we took the path to the stable, and a lone hound yipped in the distance. The pack had apparently again been foiled by the fox, and I knew exactly how such repeated frustration could grate on the mind and spirit.