Chapter 12 #2
Cecilia had seen the magistrate the other day at the clay mine, though she had ducked behind a tree to avoid an introduction. She couldn’t escape the introduction today. Gideon introduced the two with solemn etiquette.
The magistrate barely acknowledged James and herself before turning back to Gideon.
“Did you get the mine fixed up yet?”
“There is a great deal to do there. I have decided to look to repairs on the cider mill first.”
Squire Kassell’s brow furrowed. “Can’t see why you waste time and resources on that cider mill. Often told your brother and father that, too.”
“I guess you could say it is a family legacy,” Gideon explained.
Kassell shrugged, “Your coin.” Then he took his wife’s arm to lead her into the house.
Cecilia immediately decided she did not like the man. What an insufferable prig.
Lady Kassell had to be as old as her husband, yet she wore a pink gown more fitting for a young debutante. And she simpered at her husband as he walked her away like a debutante would. Odd couple, Cecilia thought.
The first carriage had the Vicar Peter Wayne and his wife.
He was younger than their vicar at home, likely in his forties.
His wife appeared a vivacious woman with red hair just beginning its march to white.
Cecilia thought she would look quite stately when all her hair became white, and that would look at odds with her open, playful countenance.
Vicar Wayne was a rather nondescript man, a man you could forget meeting.
She wondered if he ever used that to his advantage.
After Vicar Wayne and his wife, the rest of the guests came in a rush.
There was the new couple to the area—Franklin Falstaf and his wife Emily who Mrs. Norcroft had told her about, then Dr. Pettigrew and Mr. Lamont, Mrs. Hargrave and Mrs. Johnston, and the delightful, retired banker, Mr. Bagnall-Bently, and his quiet wife, Mrs. Bagnall-Bently.
Gideon, as was his wont, flirted with all the women, but particularly with Mrs. Hargrave.
Though to Cecilia’s mind, Mrs. Hargrave encouraged him to continue and returned flirtatious words and looks in kind.
James and she exchanged amused speaking glances at their drawn-out conversation.
Gideon waited in the entrance hall while she and Mrs. Johnston divested themselves of their hats and outer garments, then led both women upstairs.
It was comical to see Mrs. Johnston glower while Mrs. Hargrave smiled and lowered her eyelids in a slow, seductive blink at the earl when she knew others would notice.
An excellent performance—or demonstration.
She had neglected to ask Mrs. Hargrave if she intended to suggest a marriage of convenience with Lord Monteith as she had his brother.
Cecilia did not yet know her intent. However, it was intriguing to observe. And she liked the woman. Cecilia saw purpose on the beautiful widow’s face, but a lack of purpose on Gideon’s. Entertaining.
Also, Cecilia judged Mrs. Hargrave to be about her height, perhaps an inch taller.
She did not look outré walking beside the shorter Gideon.
Interesting. She did not adjust herself to him at all…
as though his height were neither an advantage nor a disadvantage to her purpose.
Mentally, Cecilia commended the woman for that.
In the gold drawing room, it was enlightening to see where the guests placed themselves and with whom.
Dr. Pettigrew sidled up near Mr. Hawley and asked about the excavation and when it should begin.
Mr. Hawley, for his part, seemed to evade his questions.
The retired banker and his wife sat a bit outside the circle of people, each watching and listening to the antics of others.
Mr. Falstaf and his wife, along with Mr. Lamont, were in conversation with the Baron and Baroness.
The magistrate stood by the fireplace, as if expecting people to come to him.
His wife sat in conversation with Mrs. Norcroft and Miss Nieves.
The conversation circles shifted when Mrs. Hargrave entered the room on Gideon’s arm. Cecilia moved toward the Bagnall-Bently’s corner. “May I join you?” she asked.
“Please do,” invited Mrs. Bagnall-Bently, smiling brightly up at her. She did not look like a woman plagued with ill-health. Quite the contrary. She had intelligent light brown eyes, and a face mapped with smile lines. Cecilia immediately liked her.
“I believe you have the best location for observing,” she told them.
Mrs. Bagnall-Bently chuckled. “We do! But shouldn’t you be in the fray as you are a guest we were invited here to meet?” She looked at Cecilia with an amused, knowing light in her eyes.
Mr. Bagnall-Bently nodded. “I recognized Mrs. Norcroft’s hand on the invite and found myself wondering why Mrs. Norcroft would be penning invitations for Monteith. And then I wondered, why invites from Monteith at all? He is not the type to entertain. And where is his daughter and her governess?”
Ah! Cecilia thought, our traipsing-around-the-countryside retired banker is an observant man.
“For a man who proclaims he doesn’t like to entertain, he is doing a magnificent job of being entertaining,” Cecilia drawled in return.
She ignored Mr. Bagnall-Bently’s other observations as they watched Gideon move among the guests with a laugh here and a touch there.
“It’s how he gets by,” said Mrs. Bagnall-Bently. “Look how he holds his left hand. His fingers are stiff.”
Cecilia looked at the woman in surprise. “You are observant! I’ve noted he does that when he is nervous.”
The woman nodded. “It makes sense.”
Mr. Bagnall-Bently looked from his wife to Cecilia. “Do you think it is noticeable to others?”
“I don’t know,” Cecilia said. “I know my husband has seen it. We’ve discussed his habits. During dinner, you will discover the reason for this tension in Monteith.”
“He’s going to make a revelation?”
“Of a kind,” she said. “An enjoyable kind,” she amended when she saw a look of alarm on their faces. She was pleased to see their expressions relaxed, but wondered what might have caused that alarmed look? Did they fear something else?
“Oh look, Dr. Pettigrew is growing annoyed with Mr. Hawley.” Mrs. Bagnall-Bently said, drawing Cecilia’s attention to the two men near the beverage cabinet. “I do hope they have not been sampling too much of Monteith’s liquor so early in the evening.”
“They have drawn the attention of my husband. He is walking toward them. He will sort this out between them,” Cecilia said with calm assurance.
“I dare say you were right,” Mrs. Bagnall-Bently said to her husband.
“About what, my love?”
“Mrs. Hargrave is not acting her typically brash self. She is following Monteith from one group of people to another like a forlorn puppy dog,” observed Mrs. Bagnall-Bently.
Forlorn? That was not Cecilia’s impression.
“Has she a tendre for the earl?” Cecilia asked.
“She originally had a tendre for Lord Jasper, his brother. It seems with that Lord Monteith’s demise she has switched attention to the new Lord Monteith,” Mr. Bagnall-Bently said.
Cecilia’s brows drew together for a moment. Quite an adroit switch on Mrs. Hargrave’s part, if it were true.
“While Lord Jasper was alive, she told everyone they were to be married when her formal mourning time was complete. He never said anything of that nature in public that I was aware occurred,” Mrs. Bagnall-Bently explained to Cecilia.
“But neither did he deny it,” Mr. Bagnall-Bently said.
Cecilia frowned. That was not how Mrs. Hargrave explained matters to her.
His wife acknowledged her husband’s observation with a brief nod of her head. “True. —And you, Lady Branstoke should get in the middle of the conversations, not watch from the sidelines with a couple of old people.”
“But you are far more enjoyable!” And observant, Cecilia thought.
“Bah!… That young couple over there…” Mrs. Bagnall-Bently said, pointing toward the Falstafs. “They look uncertain about their place here and don’t know how to blend in. Why don’t you send them over to us. We can make them much more comfortable.”
“I’m sure that is true. I’ll rescue them, and then you would sacrifice me to the lion’s den?” Cecilia teased.
“Of course, for you, I dare swear, are fiercer than any here,” Mr. Bagnall-Bently said.
“I don’t know where you get your ideas, but I shall be off to do your bidding,” Cecilia said with a wink and slight curtsy, mentally acknowledging Mr. Bagnall-Bently’s observation.
It was of no moment to get the Falstafs into the comforting company of the Bagnall-Bentlys. Soon, Mrs. Falstaf was talking easily with Mrs. Bagnall-Bently.
Cecilia smiled. The Bagnall-Bentlys were a shrewd couple. She wished she could have had a private discourse with them before this evening’s dinner party for more guest tidbits.
Cecilia moved her way into the small group with the Baron and Baroness now that the Falstafs had been better positioned in the group.
“Hello, Lady Branstoke!” said the baron. “We were just considering laying bets as to when the excavation would begin.”
“Wouldn’t you have an unfair advantage in a bet of that nature,” teased Cecilia, “given that the leader of the excavation stays at your house?”
“One would think so; however, Mr. Hawley is surprisingly tight-lipped and I can find no reason for his taking that stance. I believe he is under instructions. Perhaps from Sir Darby himself or another large subscriber. He is raising ire when I see no reason for it.”
“Isn’t Dr. Pettigrew a large subscriber?”
“Yes; however, Pettigrew’s issue is he wishes to take over the expedition. He doesn’t think Mr. Hawley has enough experience with Roman ruins.”
“I have no sympathy,” Cecilia said. “I don’t know if he deserves the leadership role. Regardless, one doesn’t start to throw one’s weight around like a toddler.”
The baron shrugged. “He is the largest subscriber. He out-subscribed me by two quid.”
“Does that bother you?” Cecilia asked.