Chapter Fourteen #2
On top of needing to keep an eye out for anything unusual occurring, Corbyn could not help but to reflect that he was on his way to Lady Dudmore’s Upside Down house party.
By choice. To her dreaded house party. Most people avoided it unless they were either pressured to or had reason to be nearby the queen.
Of course, Lady Dudmore had her loyal friends who attended each year.
The rest who made the journey had a reason to come that had nothing to do with entertainment.
Anybody whose standing in society was in some way weak would comply with Lady Dudmore’s invitation, as they would with any other invitation they were grateful to receive.
From a new-made baronet to a lady with not much of a dowry to a family that had not been in Town for a dozen years.
As well, there were those sycophants in society who would put up with nearly anything to be able to breezily claim they were most amused by a jest the queen relayed to them.
Lord Mayberry was forever recounting such things, though Corbyn doubted the queen ever said much to him.
He sighed. It would be days of being assigned ridiculous tasks meant to make the queen laugh. He expected embarrassment from start to finish.
Corbyn reminded himself that Lady Beatrix would be there and that was why he was going.
“Too much silence,” Farber said. “Stop the horses, I need a walk.”
Corbyn nodded. He had to remember to keep Farber in rather constant conversation. If he did not, this would not be the last stop over his valet’s queasiness, and they’d be lucky to reach Lady Dudmore by sunset.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix hardly knew what to expect when reaching Lady Dudmore’s house. The carriage ride had felt very long, as neither the countess nor the earl said much. The earl primarily communicated by patting her mother’s hand.
They were greeted by Lady Dudmore and her neighbor, Lord Hartford, who would help her host the party. Beatrix kept her eyes wide open for sight of the queen and she was at the ready to drop into a deep curtsy.
Lady Dudmore was a short and generously padded lady with surprisingly dark hair for a lady of her late middle years. She seemed to have employed rather obvious, and a bit startling, enhancements, though Lord Hartford clearly admired the lady.
To Beatrix’s relief, Lady Dudmore seemed delighted to see them.
“Finally, Earl, we have dragged you away from parliament,” she said, sounding very jolly. “And you, Countess, can shake off being a Tory widow for the season.”
“Gratified to receive the invitation, Lady Dudmore,” the earl said.
“And this must be your eldest, Lady Beatrix.”
Beatrix curtsied. “Thank you for including me, Lady Dudmore.”
“Nonsense, happy to have you. Now, the queen will make her entrance at seven, precisely. She is never late, as she stops early at The Bleeding Boar just down the road to rest and change clothes before proceeding here. She likes to arrive refreshed, you see. Everyone is to be gathered in the drawing room to receive her. No stragglers! She does not like it.”
Beatrix could not imagine who would allow themselves to run behind time when the queen was expected to make her entrance. She found herself vastly relieved, though, that the queen had not yet even arrived.
“I have set the rooms up so that you will have a connecting door between you. I did think the countess would prefer to be connected to her daughter. Oh look, here comes Lord Monroe.”
Beatrix glanced behind her. Indeed, there was Lord Monroe. The fellow launched himself from his carriage without waiting for the step, briefly stumbled, straightened his waistcoat, and hurried forward.
“Lady Dudmore!” he cried. “How marvelous to see you again, and here you are standing with your most charming houseguests. Aside from the queen, of course.”
“Lord Monroe,” Lady Dudmore said, “I presume, then, that you are acquainted with the earl and his family.”
“Quite, quite.”
Beatrix worked to keep a frown from her face. Quite, quite? She could see that Lord Monroe was determined to make himself tiresome.
“Let us go inside,” Lady Dudmore said. “I do so adore the countryside and I am ever so grateful for a bee’s honey, but I cannot care for them buzzing around my head.”
The lady led them in and Beatrix thought it was a very fine house. The great hall deserved its name, as it was expansive enough to permit a dozen riders abreast on horseback with plenty of room to spare.
“Lord Monroe, you are in the same room as last year. Third on the left in the west wing. Earl and countess, Lady Beatrix, you will be in the east wing. The footman will show you up.”
“No need, no need, Lady Dudmore,” Lord Monroe said. “I can show the earl and his family above stairs.”
“No, I do not think that will be necessary,” the earl said, staring at him.
Lord Monroe had the good grace to look abashed over his forwardness.
Beatrix thought he was very strange. Why on earth should he escort them to their rooms?
Would he wish to open the doors and look inside?
It made her uncomfortable to imagine him viewing the bed where she would lay her head. Even the footman looked askance at him.
“Charles, see the earl to his family’s rooms,” Lady Dudmore said.
The footman led them up. At the top of the staircase, the footman said to Lord Monroe, “You are that way, my lord,” pointing to the right.
“Right, right,” he said. Lord Monroe bowed reluctantly and made his way down the corridor. Beatrix followed her mother and father the other direction, glad to be rid of him.
It seemed they were to be all the way at the end of the wing. Beatrix wondered where the queen would be. She would positively die if the great lady was to be in a room nearby. She’d have to tiptoe around like a church mouse lest she disturb Her Majesty.
“Lady Dudmore has put aside these two rooms,” the footman said. “She has suggested that Lady Beatrix take the very last so that she will not have a neighbor on the other side.”
“Very considerate,” the earl said.
Indeed it was. She would not need to fret over disturbing the queen, which was a great relief.
“Let us open both rooms,” the countess said. “Beatrix, walk into ours. We will walk into yours. Then we will meet at the connecting door.”
Beatrix could not imagine why. Apparently, her father could not either. The footman looked equally confused.
“Please, my love,” the countess said softly to the earl.
He nodded, and she and her father both did as they were asked.
Beatrix walked into her mother and father’s room.
It was lovely room with a massive four poster that appeared very old and cream embossed paper hangings on the walls.
Matching cream brocade curtains shaded very deep windows.
She heard the footman out in the corridor say to the earl, “Your trunks will be up directly, my lord.”
Beatrix walked to the connecting door and opened it into another spacious and comfortable room.
“Mama, why did you wish us to walk into the wrong rooms?”
The earl was looking just as confused.
“Because when I glanced down the corridor, Lord Monroe was lingering outside his door. I am not certain I wish him to know where to find my daughter. First, he wishes to show us to our rooms himself, and then he lingers. I do not like him.”
This information gave Beatrix a bit of a chill. Why should he be lingering while they were shown to their rooms?
“I do not like him either,” the earl said. “There is a whiff of desperation about the fellow. I know he requires a dowry, as so many gentlemen do, but he is too pushy by half.”
“You see how clever I am, my love,” the countess said, looking very pleased with herself. “If he dares to attempt a private conversation with Beatrix by knocking on her door with some flimsy excuse…”
“Hah! Very good,” the earl said. “If he tries it, he’ll be faced with us!”
“Just so.”
Beatrix certainly hoped he would not try it, though she was grateful to her mother for arranging the ruse. For that matter, she was grateful to hear that neither her father nor her mother cared for Lord Monroe. The more she knew him the less she cared for him too.
“Beatrix will know to keep her door locked and only open it to us, our maid, or Lady Dudmore. Or the queen of course, though that is an unlikely circumstance. I am confident Miss Sprite has prepared our daughter for any eventuality,” the countess said.
Beatrix nodded, though Miss Sprite had not said much about eventualities.
She would of course keep her door locked when she was in the room.
They had brought Lydia to act as both of their lady’s maids and she was the only person Beatrix expected to come knocking.
Lord Monroe would be well advised to stick to his own end of the corridor, lest he be faced with her father.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lord Chester had taken a room at The Bleeding Boar, the closest inn to Lady Dudmore’s estate.
He settled himself in as well as he could without the assistance of his valet.
He did not bring the fellow, as Widdows was too much of a talker and he could not risk his family discovering that he’d never been invited to Lady Dudmore’s house party in the first place.
As far as everyone at Portland Place knew it, Lady Dudmore had limited accommodations for servants and would be lending Lord Hartford’s valet to several of the gentleman guests.
After he’d done what he could, he donned the nondescript drab overcoat he’d brought that made him appear a nobody.
He left the inn to determine the easiest route to the estate and have a look at how he might move around there.
It was not at all far, just a half mile through a wood.
There was a convenient path well worn by a lot of coming and going and Lord Chester presumed it must be a path Lady Dunmore’s servants used to visit the village.