Chapter 7
Promises, promises.
As predicted, the next morning, Meg sat up in bed, propped up by an extraordinary number of thick down pillows, sipping a cup of hot chocolate and munching her way through a plate of sweet pastries while she gazed upon the sea.
Admittedly, she had to sit up very straight and could only just glimpse it, but it was there, and that was enough.
She had leapt from bed upon waking and run to tug back curtains and push open a window, breathing in the fresh salty tang of sea air, too impatient to wait for Betty to come, and hugged her arms about herself as she looked out at the glorious view.
The higgledy-piggledy rooftops of the town were visible also, though not so visible as the church tower. Running back to the warmth of the bed, she had huddled back under the covers, relishing the fresh air after what had felt like an eternity in the city.
“Lord above, you’ll freeze to death,” Betty chided, coming back in and realising the window was still open a crack. She hurried to close it, giving a dramatic shiver as she did so.
“Oh, but the fresh air smelled so divine,” Meg complained, though her arms prickled with gooseflesh and she was not terribly disappointed when Betty stirred up the fire and added more coals.
“Well, say that again when you’re laid up with a red nose and a sore throat and wishing you’d listened to sense, that’s all I’ll say,” Betty remarked, returning to her bustling about and preparing everything for Meg’s toilette.
“Did you find the riding habit?” Meg asked, dipping the sweet pastry in her chocolate and thinking she had never felt more decadent in her entire life.
“Oh! Yes, it’s gorgeous, miss!” Betty exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see you in it. Mr Ashford won’t be able to look at aught else, you mark my words.”
“May I see it?” Meg asked eagerly, realising too late that she ought to at least know what it looked like.
“Bless me, don’t tell me you’ve forgot what it looks like already?” Betty exclaimed, clearly wondering at the excesses of the rich if they could forget such a splendid garment.
“No, obviously not. It’s only that I long to see it again, to… see if it matches my memory of it,” she said awkwardly.
Accepting this, Betty went and fetched the habit as Meg finished her breakfast. She returned a few moments later, presenting it to Meg, who could only stare.
“Oh, my,” she said faintly, taking in the fine blue Merino cloth with anticipation. “Get me ready, Betty!” she exclaimed, and leaped from the bed.
A short time later, Meg stood before the full-length mirror once more, feeling even more as if she were living in some strange and marvellous dream as she regarded this new version of herself who looked so like and yet so unlike who she had always been.
The riding dress fitted like a glove, needing no tweaks or adjustments, as if it really had been made for her.
Ornamented around the bust and cuffs with intricate little knots of blue ribbon, a Chinese handkerchief of blue and white separated the shirt from a full double ruff of Vandyke lace.
The lace framed her face in the most charming manner and Betty had artfully placed a small round hat of moss-silk at a rakish angle upon her neatly arranged blonde curls.
Blue kid half boots and Limerick gloves seamed with blue thread completed her elegant ensemble.
“You’d best marry that man, Miss Bancroft,” Betty said wistfully as she regarded her creation with satisfaction. “’Cause the poor devil will be head over ears the moment he sees you in this rig, if he weren’t before, and that’s a fact.”
Nat strode up and down outside the house, whilst the groom waited patiently with the two horses Nat had selected for their ride.
He was surprisingly eager to see Meg, which was hardly to be wondered at, he reassured himself.
Last night had been a lot for her to cope with, what with meeting most of the family and enduring such a lavish dinner.
Not that one would have known she did not sit down to such meals every evening, for she had comported herself perfectly, and the swell of pride that had risen in his chest each time she navigated her way past any difficulty had taken him aback.
She had looked beautiful too, her lovely skin glowing in the candlelight that had gleamed upon her fair hair too, burnishing it to gold.
If he had been in any doubt of her enchanting features, the way Aubrey had gazed at her all night, like some love-struck mooncalf, had been enough to make him want to kick the fellow and remind him of his manners.
Sadly, he had been just too far away for Nat to make the attempt, but if he did it again this evening, he might have to give him a word of warning.
A fellow did not mind other fellows admiring his lady, but there was a point where admiration became ogling, and Aubrey had come perilously close.
Not that she was his lady, of course, but that was beside the point.
Aubrey did not know it was all a hum and so had no excuse.
Nat was about to run inside the house and send up a note to ask how long she would be, when the lady herself appeared.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling at him.
It was only the sunlight, Nat told himself, as his breath caught in his throat and a sensation like being dazzled made him blink.
Yet she looked just as if she had stepped out of one of those prettily painted fashion plates in a riding dress of bright blue.
The extravagant lace collar emphasised the delicacy of her features, the high cheekbones and the delicate pink blush that kissed her cheeks.
She stopped, an enquiring look on her face, her grey eyes puzzled as she gazed at him. “Mr Ashford?”
“Oh!” he said, giving himself a mental shake and wondering what the devil had got into him. “Good morning. Sorry, woolgathering. I was just thinking that you looked like you’d stepped directly from the pages of Ackermann’s Repository of Fashion.”
She returned a wistful smile and stroked a loving hand over the fine cloth of the dress, smoothing it over her hip.
In any of the women he usually spent time with, he would have been certain it had been a flirtatious move intended to highlight her figure and draw his attention to it.
In this case, he knew it was an entirely unconscious movement.
“If you want the truth, I feel completely overwhelmed,” she admitted, sounding a little strained. “I hardly know myself when I look in the mirror and I fear—”
She shook her head.
“What do you fear?” he asked, concerned, for he had heard the slight tremor to her voice.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just being silly. Ignore me and introduce me to these splendid creatures,” she said, hurrying towards the horses.
Unable to interrogate her further in front of the groom, Nat let it go for the moment, explaining that the large bay gelding was Merlin, and the pretty dappled grey at his side, Dormouse.
“Dormouse!” she exclaimed, delighted by this as she produced a carrot, snapped it neatly in half, and offered a piece to each horse.
“You came prepared,” he said, amused by her forethought.
“I always like to make a good impression,” she said, stroking the mare’s silky neck.
“You definitely did last night.”
She glanced at him uncertainly. “Truly? I hoped it went well, but one never knows. They might have despised me and simply been polite to my face.”
He snorted at that, shaking his head. “You did meet my family last night? Do you think Grandmother would have held back if she’d had something to say?”
“Well, no. But Lady Della and Miss Vinnie were so kind and welcoming, Mr Aubrey too was most charming, and your uncle was very jovial.”
“Hmph,” Nat replied, thinking Mr Aubrey was a deal too charming for his own good. “Even so, you’d have known it if they did not take to you. Della has a little of Grandmother in her, if you ask me. She looks like butter wouldn’t melt but cross her at your peril.”
Her face fell at once. “Oh dear. She’ll be terribly angry when—”
“Hush,” he said, jerking his head towards the groom, who was lingering a discreet distance away.
Steering her farther from the man, he took her hand in his.
“You’ve nothing to worry about. If the worst happens, any blame will fall upon my shoulders, I assure you.
Everyone will know at once it was my harebrained scheme, and I bullied you into it. ”
“You did not bully me,” she objected. “I am not so feeble-minded that I am incapable of saying no if it is in my best interests to do so.”
Nat smiled at her. “I’m very glad you didn’t say no.
Are you?” He hesitated, studying her face for any signs of regret.
“I know I’ve put you in a dreadfully sticky situation, but…
you are enjoying it, a little, at least?
” he asked, anxious lest she turn around and tell him it was all dreadful and she could not wait for it to be over.
“More than a little,” she admitted ruefully.
She gazed down at her gown and then held out her lovely new gloves, admiring them.
“Such pretty things, the like of which I have only ever dreamed of, and your family are all so kind and welcoming. If you want the truth, I should think myself the luckiest creature on earth if I didn’t feel so wretched for deceiving everyone. ”
“I’m glad,” he said, feeling vastly relieved. “Don’t think about the deception. Let us enjoy everything that comes for the next few weeks without guilt or regret.”
“Carpe diem?” she suggested.
Nat laughed. “Even I know that one,” he said with a grin. “Certainly, let us seize the day and live it to the full.”
She pulled a face. “For tomorrow we die.”
“Certainly not. Tomorrow, we have been invited to tea at the vicarage,” he said briskly. “No dying necessary. Now, come along. These poor horses will catch a chill if we don’t get going.”
He led her back to Dormouse, waving the groom away as Meg stood ready, waiting for him to help her up.