Chapter One #2
“I’m not really Mrs. Tilney,” the young woman had blurted to April, almost as soon as they had met at the carriage door.
“I’m Miss Tilney and Mal—Mr. Keith—lodged in my mother’s house.
Neither of us saw fit to change that when my mother died, but when I offered to look after things for your party here, he thought you would all respect a Mrs. Tilney more than a Miss. ”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” April had assured her, watching Piers and Keith approach, “Nor to my husband.”
“It will to some,” Meg murmured.
April, with experience of Society’s snobbery, felt a first stirring of unease. She had imagined Piers’s friends would all have his easy-going tolerance, but Meg appeared to know differently.
During tea, the two men slipped into banter, often of the learned kind that April couldn’t understand.
A year ago, she couldn’t write her own name, so Latin and Greek jests were well beyond her.
But the men obviously enjoyed it and April never tired of hearing Piers laugh.
Their conversation didn’t cover the latest events in their lives—things women would have asked about immediately—but they were clearly happy to be together.
It was Meg who jumped to her feet at the first sound of fresh carriage wheels on the gravel outside.
Mal, close to the window already, craned his neck without rising. “It’s the prof,” he reported. “I’d recognize that old bone-shaker anywhere. Hale will be with him, I expect.”
The prof, April knew, was Professor Julius Algernon, after whom, in part, Piers had named his favourite horse. The other part of his decision had been, apparently, to do with the horse’s wisdom.
Piers jumped to his feet. “Hostly duties,” he said, but April heard the eagerness in his voice and rose nervously with him.
Of all Piers’s friends, she supposed she most wanted Professor Algernon to like her, because he was something of a mentor to Piers and held so much of his respect.
But she assured herself she was not seriously worried.
The professor would at least tolerate her for Piers’s sake, and this whole party was for Piers.
So she trooped back downstairs to the front door with the others and pulled the bell there to summon the footman.
Two men had already emerged from the carriage, one older and greying, the other young and vigorous and handing down a lady. That was unexpected. Professor Algernon was a widower, and the Dr. Hale who apparently accompanied him was a college fellow and therefore unmarried.
But then, so was Mallory Keith.
“Withan, my boy!” exclaimed the older gentleman, advancing to grasp Piers’s hand in both of his, a smile of genuine pleasure on his face. “How splendid to see you! And how well you look!”
Smiling because Piers was clearly so valued by his mentor, April glanced at the couple by the carriage and saw that the lady was both young and pretty.
They were not expecting her, so would Piers even know who she was?
He had a curious debility which prevented him recognizing faces, especially those he did not see often.
“Splendid indeed,” exclaimed the other man, clapping Piers enthusiastically on the back. “How are you, Withy?”
“Without a crease to his coat and he remembered his cravat,” the lady said teasingly. “The man is clearly married.”
Piers, who had been grinning between the two men, glanced at her in some surprise.
April tensed, unable to help him. Piers would do what he always did in such circumstances: smile vaguely and politely until conversation made it clear who she was and if he was expected to know her.
Though by her joking demeanour, they were indeed well acquainted.
And Piers knew it after the first instant of blankness, even before she offered her very slightly trembling hand.
A rare hint of colour seeped along the blade of his cheekbone. “Miss Algernon.” He took her hand, hastily bowing over it.
“My Lord Petteril, I believe,” Miss Algernon said in apparent amusement.
And yet April knew she was not amused at all. There was a strange edge to Miss Algernon’s voice, and the tension was almost palpable, although it only lasted an instant.
“We are betrothed,” Dr. Hale said with what seemed unnecessary firmness.
And with that, Piers smiled properly and clapped him on the back. His social grace snapped back into place. “Let me present you all to my wife. April, this is Professor Algernon, his daughter Miss Claudia Algernon, and Dr. Joseph Hale. My wife, April, Lady Petteril.”
He drew April forward as he spoke, nothing but shy pride in his voice, which was something of a pathetic relief to April.
Her heart was beating too fast, her head spinning with dismay, not so much because there was clearly some kind of past between her husband and Miss Algernon that they were all acknowledging in different ways, but because Piers had never mentioned any of this to his wife.
“How do you do?” April said in her best, carefully learned social manner. She even curtseyed and offered her hand to each of them. Their eyes were all curious, but the woman’s were especially assessing. If neither Mal nor Meg were aware of April’s true background, Miss Algernon most certainly was.
“Come inside,” April said, seeking refuge in hospitality. “I hope your journey was not too arduous?”
“It is only a few hours’ drive from Oxford,” Miss Algernon said, “which I believe is why Piers chose it.”
So they are on first name terms. “We were just having tea.”
Casually, Piers had stepped in front of the somewhat arrogant footman, who carried a large trunk on his shoulder and was clearly heading for the front door.
Whatever Piers said to him, the footman’s expression became a silent tut.
But at least he turned aside and changed direction toward the side of the house.
Now that April thought of it, baggage at gentlemen’s houses was never brought in the front door. Were the servants here ignorant? Or simply lazy?
April led the way inside while behind her, the men and Miss Algernon were chatting away about changes in various colleges, interspersed with occasional laughter at jokes she didn’t understand.
She sent one of the maids scurrying for fresh tea, which at least arrived promptly just as everyone was comfortably seated.
As hostess, April poured the tea—a ceremony which she had grown quite used to now and which, with only Mal and Meg to consider, she had barely noticed.
But now the stakes seemed ridiculously higher.
She felt watched and weighed as she poured cups of tea for the newcomers and then freshened the cups of Piers and Mal.
Meg ferried cups and plates to each of their guests.
Finally, amidst the men’s banter, April topped up Meg’s cup and her own, while the sandwiches and honey cakes circulated. Another problem occurred to her.
“Have you seen the bedchambers yet?” she asked Meg quietly. “I have no idea where to put everyone.”
“There are more rooms made up than we need, so Miss Algernon’s arrival is no problem,” Meg replied. “I’ll show you, if you like, and you can decide where everyone should go.”
“Thank you.” April took a last sip of tea and rose.
“Excuse me while I see to the accommodation,” she said to the company at large.
She had no idea if anyone heard her. It just felt something of a relief to be out of the room, which dismayed her somewhat.
She had to remind herself that this had been her idea.
It was for Piers, who missed his friends, and who deserved these two weeks among them.
“This is clearly the master’s bedchamber,” Meg said, throwing wide the double doors to a dark, masculine room of cumbersome old furniture and heavy hangings. “The mistress’s room has a separate entrance but there is a connecting door. I told them to put your and Lord Petteril’s trunks here.”
The mistress’s room was at least brighter and comfortable looking.
“Perfect,” April said.
Together, she and Meg flitted from room to room. She decided on the next best room for Professor Algernon, a pretty, feminine one for his daughter, and another suitable for Dr. Hale.
Encountering the footman, she directed him where to put the new baggage. “What is your name, by the way?”
“Edward, ma’am.”
“My lady,” April corrected from instinct. She almost laughed at herself, but this was Piers’s world, and she would tolerate no disrespect to him through her. “Now, who else do we have to accommodate? Mr. and Mrs. Hubble, and Mr. Fosterson...”
She and Meg walked further along the wide passage, past an alcove containing two tall, ornate silver candlesticks on a marble topped table with curly legs. April opened the door next to it and glanced inside.
“This is another pleasant room for a married couple, is it not?” Leaving the door open, she crossed the hall. “And Mr. Fosterson opposite, I think. Oh, wait, where are you and Mr. Keith?”
“He is just at the end of the hall—he likes oddly shaped rooms. I will go wherever you want me.”
April eyed her. “You were considering the servants’ quarters.”
Meg blushed. “It’s where some people will expect me to be.”
“Fortunately, I am your grand hostess,” April said with mock splendour.
“And I expect you to be among the rest of us. What about this one?” She opened the door next to Mr. Fosterson’s and found another charming bedchamber, decorated in a tasteful manner that would have suited most tastes, male or female.
“If you’re sure...” Meg said doubtfully. “Actually, it is the last bedchamber made up on this floor. There are linen cupboards around the corner, and beyond those more bedchambers. I can easily make another bed there, out of the way.”
“Why should you?” April said. “Unless you are more comfortable in such solitude?”
“Oh, no,” Meg said, and compressed her lips on whatever else she was about to say, for the larger of the two maids was puffing her way towards them from the servants’ stairs with several bags.
April informed the girl which room was which. “Oh, and tell Cook I shall be down to see her shortly.”
“Cook’ll be happy to come to you, my lady,” panted the maid.
“I’m sure she would be, but in this case, I shall come to her. What is your name?”
“Becky, your ladyship.” She was a slightly ungainly girl, with a pleasant, good-natured face. “I hope you’re happy with the rooms, my lady,” she added anxiously.
“I am. But it must have been a lot of work for two maids.”
“Oh, most of it was done before the mistress took the others up to London.”
Lady Temperley, in fact, had agreed to leave a full complement of staff, with the exception of her housekeeper, to look after the Petterils and their guests. What could have changed her mind? It was highly inconvenient.
Feeling she had been absent for long enough, April returned to the drawing room, where tea was just finishing up. April felt obliged to turn and lead the way upstairs once more.
Apart from the sudden, overwhelming urges to sleep at odd hours of the day, her pregnancy did not trouble her much.
Her stomach rarely rebelled now, and she still seemed to have the same energy between naps.
Nevertheless, as she reached the upper landing once more, she felt a little warning sting in her abdomen.
Ignoring it, she marched along the passage, throwing open the doors and announcing the occupants, whose bags now awaited them inside. Piers had followed his friends upstairs and was glancing into his own room. Good. She wanted to talk to him. And sit down.
“Oh.” Miss Algernon, standing inside her own door and gazing toward the window. “I was hoping for a room on the other side of the house. The view would be so much prettier. And I had thought it would be bigger.”
“You could change rooms with Mr. Hale,” April said patiently.
“Dr. Hale,” Miss Algernon corrected.
“But I thought it more masculine,” April continued. “Or you could take the larger room which I had assigned to the Hubbles, since there are two of them.”
“Are there no others?”
“Not made up,” April said. “Beyond the linen closets on this floor are more bedchambers. Since there are only two maids to the whole house, I hesitate to ask them to make up yet another room, but—”
Miss Algernon blinked at her and interrupted with pitying amusement. “Two maids for a house of this size? My dear Lady Petteril, why did you not employ more? I could have advised you had I known.”
Considering she hadn’t even been invited, this seemed a little rich to April. Still, aware of her own shortcomings and inexperience, she felt her face heat. And the sting in her abdomen sharpened.
“Well, do let me know what you decide,” she said. “You will excuse me for a moment?”
As she walked back toward her own room and Piers, she was aware of the professor behind her, glancing into his daughter’s room. “What’s wrong with it?” he said impatiently. “Why, it’s a lovely room!”
Ha! April thought ill-naturedly and opened her own door. She closed it carefully behind her before she walked to the nearest chair and sat down on it, folding her arms around her stomach.
“There, everything is fine,” she murmured to the tiny baby within, as she did with increasing frequency. “Be calm and happy. We’ll just sit here for a little...”
She took a deep breath and gazed toward the window, which had a fine view over the gentle countryside and the ornamental lake. She would have sacrificed that aspect to keep the peace with Miss Algernon, just not the connecting door to her husband’s room.