Chapter Thirteen #2
He’d mentioned the idea of visits. After all, nobody would be relocating to China.
They could come for visits. That had resulted in an article added to the peace treaty.
If Lelander were successful in his pursuit of Miss Poppy, he would spend the rest of his Christmas seasons at Chemsworth.
With Burkhart. To ensure this plan, a stipulation was added that if the articles of the treaty were broken, all dowries must be returned to the viscount.
It was a bit of a nightmare, but the viscount had gone away satisfied.
The rest of the articles had been haggled over, all along Lelander wondering how he was to explain any of it to his father.
The final argument was over whether it was complete and whether there could be amendments.
The answers were yes and no. It was done and there would be no amendments.
It was final. They both agreed to sink the idea of amendments when they’d allowed their minds to wander into the future and recognize what a wasp’s nest that would be.
The amendments were likely to pile upon one another through the generations until they were left with a treaty longer than the bible, filled with additions and cross outs.
What they had was simple and straightforward and it would serve the purpose.
They had made two copies and signed both. There was an empty space left on each where their respective fathers would sign. If they would sign.
Lelander had rolled up his copy and put it in his coat pocket.
The first gong would ring soon, as they had been at this ridiculous exercise all day. Lelander had kept an eye out the windows and had seen the ladies depart with Miss Millthorpe. And then return much later without the lady. Miss Poppy was looking very fine in her pretty bonnet and cloak.
They would dine with the ladies soon, which brought up another balancing act. Neither of them would speak before they could show a signed treaty and give every assurance that the ladies would not be pressured to separate.
Somehow, he’d have to drop hints without outright saying anything.
Nobody but the viscount was to know what they were doing.
Not even their valets were to be told until they had left the house.
He and Burkhart had agreed that they would use the time after dinner to alert the ladies that they were going, but hoped to return.
They were to drop hints of their very much wishing to return.
What was he to do if his father or the earl refused to sign? That was what weighed on his mind.
He supposed he would soon find out, as he and Burkhart would set off at first light. They had already agreed that they would stay at different inns. It was one thing to be civil, but another thing to be constant companions.
The gong rang and they both departed the library to change for dinner. His last dinner before he must leave and discover if he could ever come back. He must come back. He would harangue his father into agreement and he expected Burkhart to do just the same. They must be successful.
He found Meegan waiting for him.
“Dare I ask what in the world happened in the library?” his valet asked. “The house is abuzz with it.”
“I’ll not share that information until we are away from here. We leave at first light.”
Meegan dropped the brush for his coat. “We leave?”
“We leave. I am sure we will return in not too long a time.”
“Why do we leave though?”
“I cannot say just now.”
“Does that Smith character leave too?”
“Yes, it is customary for a valet to leave with his employer.”
“Good. I would not want that scoundrel to have the run of the house without me being here to challenge his ridiculous ideas. Last night at the servants’ table he attempted to overcome me with glares, though I quite came out on top.
He would have shuddered to hear what I would say to him.
If the butler had not banned us from arguing. ”
“I’m sure your looks were devastating,”
“Does Smith know why we leave?”
“No.”
“Good. I could not bear it if he knew something that I did not.”
“Excellent. You are both in the dark. Now, might I change? I have a dinner to attend.”
This, apparently, brought to Meegan’s mind what his job actually was. It was dressing him, not glaring at Smith and designing insults for the fellow.
Perhaps they’d need a peace treaty for the valets too.
The second gong rang and Poppy raced from her room. Pansy was on her heels.
When they’d come home from Miss Millthorpe’s cottage, the library doors were still frustratingly closed. Both sisters were determined to barge in if the gentleman were somehow still in there now.
They reached the great hall and found the library doors open. The gentlemen had finally emerged from it. Mr. Smuckers answered their question before they asked it.
"The gentlemen have gone above stairs to change clothes," he said.
"Do you know what they were doing in there all day?" Poppy asked.
"I was not made aware,” Smuckers said.
His tone suggested that he should have been made aware and Poppy scolded herself for even thinking about laughing. To cheer him up, she said, “We are all safe, thanks to you, Mr. Smuckers. You protected the house last night.”
“Indeed,” Pansy said. “Just when we were sure all was lost, you came to the rescue.”
Smuckers stood a bit straighter, though it seemed impossible he could be more straight than he always was. “Preparation was what was required. Planning and preparation.”
Violet and Daisy came down the stairs.
“Our hero of the hour,” Violet said.
“Our dear Smuckers. Hemmings says you should write an accounting of the adventure of last evening for future generations,” Daisy said.
This prompted Smuckers to get a faraway look in his eyes. “An accounting? Does the Marquess think so?”
“He is most definite about it,” Daisy said. “He says in a hundred years, the people in the house would delight to read of a stalwart butler and the undoing of a false baron.”
“Yes,” Mr. Smuckers said slowly, “I imagine they would.”
They passed into the drawing room, leaving Mr. Smuckers to consider his accounting of the butler and the false baron for future generations.
If Poppy understood their butler at all, he would be most gratified that the marquess had suggested it.
He had a deal of respect for rank and would likely mention in this accounting that he’d been pressed by the Marquess of Hemmings, heir to the Duke of Kenilworth, to put his recollections to paper for posterity.
The viscountess and Mrs. Dallway were already in the drawing room, and Bertie and Teddy were examining the Patinir that had so recently been headed out the door.
It was hung back in its proper place and the two boys rubbed their chins and nodded at it very gravely.
Poppy could not imagine what sort of nonsense they discussed between themselves.
There was no sign of the gentlemen yet. If they did not appear, Poppy was fairly certain that Pansy would drag them from their rooms. She was also fairly sure she would help in the effort.
“Girls,” the viscountess said, “how did Miss Millthorpe fare in her relocation back to the cottage?”
“Very well, Mama,” Poppy said. “Johnny Johns repaired the broken lock on her window and she was most satisfied with it.”
“She’s embroidering a pillow cover for Mr. Smuckers,” Pansy said. “To commemorate last night.”
“It is to depict the two housebreakers falling on his ice step,” Poppy said.
“Are we not to discuss the obvious?” Mrs. Dallway asked. “What in the world were your two gentlemen guests doing in the library all day?”
“I have not the first idea,” the viscountess said. “My lord called it usual young gentlemen nonsense, whatever that may be.”
“Very odd, in my book,” Mrs. Dallway said.
Yes, it was very odd. But perhaps they would discover what it had all been about at dinner.
“Perhaps they saw fit to have a final argument about the Roses War and then put that discussion into retirement forevermore,” the viscountess said.
Perhaps. If that had been what it was about, Poppy would be all for it.
The two gentlemen in question came in, finally. They were quickly followed by Henry and Maribelle, Lord Hemmings, and Lord Smythesdon. The viscount brought up the rear.
Poppy did not pay much attention to where anybody else was going. Mr. Lelander was coming in her direction and that was all she needed to see.
“Miss Poppy,” he said, looking glorious in his impeccably tailored coat, “I hope you have sufficiently recovered from your fright last evening.”
“Mostly, I think,” she said, very approving that he was concerned about her state of mind. She supposed she had entirely recovered. But then she supposed it was not strictly necessary to say so when a gentleman’s concern was so delightful.
“Your bravery in going for the pistol was unparalleled.”
Poppy smiled. That was such a terrible fib, and very flattering. The pistol had been lying right next to her in the snow. Yes, she had picked it up, but she hardly would have known how to fire it. Or have the nerve to try.
“My advice is, take things slowly until you have fully regained your spirits and equilibrium. It can be risky to rush a recovery.”
“Can it? Goodness, I had not thought…” Poppy supposed she could carry on with being mostly recovered for a few more days.
“I saw you leave in the sleigh with Miss Millthorpe earlier in the day. I trust she has been settled satisfactorily in her cottage.”
He’d been looking out the window. She had not seen him. She supposed the glare of the sunshine had made it easy for him to look out but more difficult for her to look in. Poppy wondered if he’d seen her looking. “She is happy to be home," she said.
"I was a bit concerned about the broken lock on her window though.”
“Johnny Johns fixed it for her. She feels quite secure, though I know she will never answer the door to a stranger again.”