Chapter 11
“Remember, dear—the Duchess of York holds tea—”
“—on Wednesdays,” Caroline finished. She resisted the temptation to rub her temples. “Her favorite card game is Whist.”
“Or Hazard, if she can get it,” Esther said primly, “but we won’t hold it against her, will we?”
The drawing room itself at Highcastle was a lovely space. Light gold beams fell onto her hands and feet, warming them like a cuddly cat. The hours of personal preparation for her future role, however, were not so enjoyable and were starting to fray the edges of her patience.
“You will be expected, of course, to host small gatherings here. For my sake, dear, do include a few leaves of Pekoe. I’ve nothing against Bohea and Hyson, but the palate does love refreshing, now and again.”
“I’ve never tried Pekoe,” Caroline said, staring out the window. “What do you like about it?”
Esther smiled.
“Excellent, dear—finding common ground and pursuing an interest. That will be an exceedingly helpful conversation skill in the days to come. Shall we review Earl Dorsay’s favorite operas?”
Esther moved her quill farther down the list they had already reviewed twice.
“It might seem excessive, but the best way to make information stick is to repeat it.”
Caroline put down her teacup. The crumbs of afternoon tea lay scattered on the plate. She stifled a yawn.
“If you prefer, Esther, I shall review them. His favorite opera is Giasone, but where he finds an opera house who performs it willingly is another question.”
Esther’s lips puckered as she stifled a laugh. Caroline blushed and frowned a little. Her impatience was making her forward—far more forward than she had ever dared be when it was just her aunt and Winifred. Esther set the quill down on the table.
“Your wit will serve you well, dear—just take care not to air it in front of the count.”
“Of course, Your Grace. Though I hardly think he’ll be in any position to hear me say it. I’ve never even seen him before!”
Esther looked over Caroline’s shoulder and smiled.
“Ah, Earl Dorsay—”
Caroline whipped around. Carlyle bowed.
“More tea, madam?”
She sank down a little in her chair. Esther smiled.
“Yes, Carlyle, thank you.” She turned back to Caroline. “Let that be an additional lesson to you, dear—one never knows when one could be overheard.”
Caroline sighed, rubbing the scar on her hand. Overheard, overseen, constantly observed. The last week had been a little trying for her, accustomed as she was to the quiet and gentleness of her former routine.
Carlyle entered with the tea. Caroline nodded to him. The servants at Highcastle had been very civil at least. Not one of them stared at her or had whispered anything as she walked by. It was a small gesture but one she deeply appreciated.
Esther set aside the quill and list, much to Caroline’s relief, and made space for the gilt silver tea tray. Carlyle had brought them a small plate of petit four secs—soft, crumbly pastries that made her think of home parties at Michelmas.
Esther poured a cup of tea which Caroline gratefully took. How odd it was that in just a week, she would be the one serving! Carlyle also handed Esther a note, gilded with an elaborate seal.
“Oh dear!” Her eyes passed over the paper.
She put her unfinished petit four down upon her plate.
“I’ve just received a message with some urgent business—I simply must attend to it.
You’ll be all right here at Highcastle for an hour or so, won’t you?
Carlyle will see that you have everything you need. ”
Carlyle bowed. Caroline nodded politely. Inside, her heart leapt. She had been longing to escape the drawing room but failed to think of a suitable enough reason. The garden just outside the long, sash windows tempted her awfully. What a lovely opportunity to indulge!
The stark water garden, with its stone fountains and pink-topped lily pads, was a truly beautiful space. But for Caroline, the heart of the garden beat in the winding wisteria walk.
Elaborate trellises guarded the path, stretching up to the sky. The plants were dormant now; she longed to see what they would look like in full bloom, come the early spring.
She rubbed one of the leaves between her fingers.
Come spring, she would have been married several months.
She shook her head. Married! The oddity of it, the lurking surprise of becoming a duchess, still caught her off guard at moments though she scarcely talked or thought of anything else in her waking moments.
There was so much to do—so much to say, so much to become—
She took a deep breath and passed under the shield of the wisteria’s brown foliage. The stark shadows speckling the gravel walk passed over her head and shoulders as she ambled down the path, listening to the crunch of her soft shoes on the loose rock.
The Duke of Blackmore had been pleasant enough. They might even become friends in time. Her fears of being grossly unhappy had simmered away. But her curse—her curse still felt alarmingly near. It would be silent, deceptively dormant, until—
She shut her eyes, but images of torn carriages, terrible falls, and dark, swirling water swam before her. She would keep away from them—from him, no matter what kindness they showed. She could excuse herself in the evenings and go early to bed or plead a series of stress-induced headaches.
If something should happen—
A stick cracked nearby. Her eyes shot open. A pale face loomed before her, mouth gaping wide like a specter howling in the woods. Caroline screamed and fell back, grasping at the trellis for support. The flowers shook in protest.
The specter stumbled forward. Caroline put a hand to her heart. It was beating like a hare in the hunt. Then, the shadow raised its head.
Caroline blinked. It was a boy, or a youth, rather. He was nearly as tall as she was and also quite nearly as startled. His eyes bulged.
“Oh!” he gasped. “You gave me a fright!”
Caroline stared at him. Her legs felt like they had turned to jelly. She, had given him a fright? She burst out laughing. The boy reddened.
“You shouldn’t laugh,” he said. “I really did think you were a ghost—or a pirate or something.”
Caroline laughed harder. The boy scowled. For a moment, he looked just like the Duke of Blackmore. Caroline dabbed the tears from her eyes.
“Oh! Please excuse me!” she gasped. “But you see—that’s exactly what I thought about you!”
“What! That I was a pirate?”
He looked equal parts flattered and chagrined.
“Not necessarily. But I did suppose you to be something unearthly.”
“Me! But I’m not—well, I suppose you aren’t, either.”
The redness on his face spread until it threatened to scorch his ears. He fiddled with a book, a dark-green covered slender thing. Caroline’s eyes fell on it. The youth’s eyes followed.
“I’ve been reading The Forest of Montalbano,” he confessed. “Normally I read travelogs. Frederic told me I ought to read The Borgough, but—”
He stepped back.
“Oh! We haven’t been introduced. Should—” He looked around the empty garden. No one, except for a few enterprising blooms of campanula, was available. “Well, I’m Philip, anyway, Philip Grandon.”
Caroline curtsied.
“Lady Caroline Dresher. I’m—”
What was she, exactly? The future duchess?
“You’re Frederic’s new wife!” He put out his hand cordially. “Well, I mean, you will be. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She shook his hand.
“Frederic—the duke, that is, I guess you’d know—told me about you.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows. Her heart fluttered a little. Frederic had talked about her?
“Did he? What did he say?”
“Oh, you mustn't blame him. I was ever so interested when he told me about the engagement, what with all the stories—” His eyes bulged until he looked like he had swallowed a frog. He rushed on.
“Frederic told me that you like horses and that you were very beautiful and easy to talk with, and I was ever so grateful.”
“That I was beautiful?”
“No—that is, I didn’t mind, but—”
Caroline laughed at his discomfort. What a sweet, dear boy he was. Frederic had mentioned him that day in London, but she’d nearly forgotten.
“Perhaps, when there is a spare moment, you could take me to see your favorite places to walk or ride, here in Highcastle? It’s still very new to me, and I would welcome a guide.”
Philip’s face lit up.
“Really? Do you have a moment now? I’m ever so free and could walk with you to the loveliest place.”
He held out his arm. Caroline peeked through the wisteria then back to the house. No one was looking for her yet—an oddity since the engagement. She took Philip’s arm.
“I would be honored, Lord Grandon.”
He straightened a little and led her out to the garden.
“It’s a very special spot,” he promised. “I’m sure it’ll be something you appreciate.
“Then I shall be even more grateful for your tour,” she said, “though I don’t imagine it will be difficult to impress me. What I’ve already seen of Highcastle is so lovely—I’m looking forward to exploring it further.”
“Then we shall.” He took a few quick steps forward which she struggled to match.
“What do you want to see first? What fun we shall have! It has been—very quiet around the house. Frederic spends ever so much time on business—as he should,” he hastened to add.
“As he very much should. He can’t spend all of his time with me. ”
They passed a swooping, curved garden bed thoughtfully speckled with deep purple Cotinus. Caroline traced the pattern then turned back to Philip, taking advantage of the brief pause while he stopped for air to pose her own question.
“How do you prefer to spend your time? You mentioned reading.”
He led her around the bed and further out onto the green lawn.
“Carlyle told me the name of that flower once, but I can’t remember now. An azure, perhaps? No, that just means blue. I’ve been trying to take up gardening, but I have no patience for it.”
He gestured to their left, past the corner of the house.
“The stable is just back there. I ride nearly every day. That’s something really exciting, riding, just like a real adventure—like Rob Roy.”
“Hopefully a little less sanguine,” Caroline said. “But I suppose you mean the life of a man in a saddle.”
Philip licked his lips.
“Yes, very much. Not so much—stabbing. But look there!”
He pointed to a gazebo surrounded by balled topiary shrubs.
“That’s the first marker for the race I run with Prince. He’s my horse, you know—an excellent one, too. Even Carlyle thinks so, and he’s not one to appreciate a good steed unless it’s for the carriage. Do you really like horses?”
“I do, though likely not as much as you or my aunt. I enjoy riding on occasion, but my aunt rides every day, rain or shine.”
Philip nodded solemnly.
“That indeed is a wise woman.”
Caroline stifled a smile.
“You ride frequently, then?”
A dreamy look crept into Philip’s eyes.
“As often as Carlyle and my tutors permit me. I should be more grateful.” He glanced over his shoulder as if said tutors were pursuing him for the express purpose of chastising his daydreams. “Riding Prince is ever so much more enjoyable than plowing through Hume, whatever he had to say about the history of England.”
“By which I assume you mean Hume, and not your horse.” Caroline straightened her skirt as Philip led her farther out onto the green lawn. “It’s quite expansive then?”
“No—I mean, yes,” Philip admitted. “What I mean to say is that the grounds are very large and luxurious but not so large and luxurious that we cannot walk nicely in them.”
Caroline had to agree with him. It felt, now, that they were farther from the house, like they were alone in miles of open ground, dotted sparsely with hedge and tree.
Philip shaded his eyes and looked toward the trees where a silver glimmer glinted near the ground.
“It’s just there—the most beautiful spot on Highcastle.”
It was a river—a throbbing, twisting one that made its way like a vein through the fleshy green hillocks. Caroline shivered. Philip pointed to the opposite bank.
“You see? Wild roses! Whenever I can, I like to ride Prince down here. When I was younger, I used to make a game out of counting them—but the bushes have spread too much by now, and I would run out of time. It’s too late in the season to see them now, but just wait until spring.”
He pulled her triumphantly forward. Caroline dragged her feet. The bank was only a short span away from them. She withdrew her hand and knelt to examine a small shrub.
“It is a lovely spot,” she said hesitantly. Philip gestured her forward. “Come, see the bank just here.”
Caroline shook her head. The water flicked at the edges of her eyes like a whip behind horses.
“I can see both banks from here.” She put her hand on the stile fence to steady herself. “They’re both quite lovely.”
“Once I thought I could jump the whole river, just Prince and me,” Philip said, miming the action with his hand, “but Frederic said it would be too far a leap and could endanger both of us, even in the shallow season. Now, I just love to look at it and wonder how the sun plays on the water.”
Despite her terror, a smile crept onto Caroline’s face.
“I can see, sir, that you and I have an opportunity.”
Frederic looked at her eagerly.
“Do we? How so?”
“Well, since we both love to ride and I would love to see more of Highcastle, I would be honored if you would oblige my interest and serve as a guide in the coming weeks.”
Philip smiled until it threatened to eclipse his entire face.
“Yes! Of course, I mean—if you would feel so inclined.” His smile faded a little. “Is it—is it all right if I ask you something? About your scar?”
Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. She steadied it and nodded. Of course, he’d have questions.
“What would you like to know? I’m at your disposal.”
“How did you come by your scars? Mother said—” He blushed. “And Frederic said—well, I’d just like to hear about it from you, that’s all.”
Caroline reached out her hand to him.
“Then I shall endeavor to oblige you. Walk me back to the house? I’ll tell you the story as we make our way.”