Chapter Fifteen #2
The first thing they’d seen as they peeked out Pansy’s window was Teddy and Bertie out of doors and doing something.
They could not quite see what, but whatever it was, it entertained them no end.
They laughed and shushed each other, and then they ran around the side of the house, presumably to come back in again through the servants’ entrance.
Then they’d listened for sounds. At first, there was nothing to hear. Then they heard the first set of footsteps going down the stairs. Then another set. A quarter hour passed by and they’d heard the front doors open and had run to the window.
Then they’d seen both Mr. Lelander and Lord Burkhart fall on the drive. When Lord Burkhart had looked up, they’d ducked and had not dared look further.
It had seemed a very strange thing that not just one gentleman, but two, were to fall down while walking.
They’d discovered later that Teddy and Bertie had set every single marble they could find on the steps.
As Poppy and Pansy knew, there were hundreds of marbles in the nursery.
Seven children had passed through there, and then Teddy.
They were in small bags tucked into corners and loose marbles rolled under beds and hidden in drawers.
Occasionally some rolled across a floor and Miss Millthorpe would step on one and marbles would be banned for a time.
But even when they were banned, they were still everywhere.
Clay marbles, Bennington marbles, agate marbles, limestone marbles, and even marble marbles.
The one thing the nursery would never run short of was marbles.
The boys had come upon the idea of the marbles trap after hearing of Mr. Smuckers’ ice step. They decided that if they could not catch housebreakers on the way into Chemsworth Hall, they would catch two ill-favored gentlemen on the way out of it.
This might have been the sort of thing two boys might have found themselves in terrible trouble over.
However, this bit of hijinks was thoroughly approved of by the viscountess, and even Miss Millthorpe could only be inspired to give the smallest sniff and shrug over it.
Smuckers had gone so far as to quietly congratulate the boys and give them a detailed description of how their marble arrangement had unfolded, including the two valets falling as well, and their being scratches and scuffs on the gentlemen’s trunks.
Teddy and Bertie had felt positively heroic over it and patched together two medals issued by the Inviolate Kingdom.
They were the order of extreme bravery and comprised of a farthing with strips of ribbon glued to it.
They’d taken needle and thread to sew them onto their coats by looping the thread over the farthing.
As neither boy was an accomplished seamstress, there were perhaps more holes in their fingers than in their coats.
They were satisfied with the result, though Maribelle and Violet were perhaps less satisfied with the state of their coats.
That first morning that the gentlemen had set off, she and Pansy had mournfully watched the carriages turn at the crossroads, and then Henrietta had found them draped across Pansy’s bed.
She’d glanced at the empty decanter and then glanced at them. “Gracious, girls, I never suggested you drink down the whole thing. Look at the state of you. Tea, biscuits, and time are the only things that will help you now. Heaven knows what Mr. Smuckers will make of it.”
They had not known they’d made such good use of their butler’s sherry, they had assumed it was part of the viscount’s stock.
They naturally felt awful about it, as well as from it.
This was on top of all the other things that made them feel awful.
They’d gathered together some of their pocket money to replace it, and then some, for the butler.
The days that followed had been dreary. They drank only little sips of wine at dinner, as the memory of the sherry lingered on.
Violet and Daisy had done their best to cheer them, but what was to be said?
The viscountess advised nursing their broken hearts not above a fortnight, lest the misery settle in permanently.
She gave them leave to purchase anything they liked at the haberdasher as a further soothing measure.
Of course, they did try it, but their first choice was banned by Mr. Clyde as being too dramatic and a thing the viscountess would disapprove of.
They ended with new velvets and silks, but those did nothing to replace what they’d lost.
The viscount remained very jolly over the whole thing and Poppy wondered if it was because he did not wish for his last two daughters to leave the house.
That first evening, he’d looked at them and said, “Why so glum? The gentlemen said they wished to return to our fine hospitality and I, for one, am confident they will do it.”
Her papa’s use of the phrase “for one” was probably accurate. He was the only one who thought the gentlemen would be back.
Lord Smythesdon and Lord Hemmings went round the house looking embarrassed. Poppy was not certain if they were embarrassed by the gentlemen’s actions or that Poppy and Pansy had somehow driven them away.
Finally, Lord Smythesdon and Lord Hemmings took their sisters away.
Lord Smythesdon was wanted back in Oxford for a lecture he was giving regarding…
well, they’d been told but could not remember what it was about.
Lord Hemmings was determined to get home to his estate so he could begin building the simple cottage on the grounds that he and Daisy had spent so much time sketching.
They had high hopes of being snowed in there on occasion.
Daisy would boil water for tea and Hemmings would toast bread on the fire and they would be very cozy together.
Before leaving them, both of their sisters told them not to despair. The right man would come along for each of them. They were certain of it. Though Poppy and Pansy did not believe a word of it, they found themselves further down in spirits to lose their sisters’ company.
If there had been one bright spot, one small thing to be happy about, it was that Lily had safely delivered her child and come through it in good health.
She was now the proud mother of a little girl who had the lungs of a full-grown prize fighter.
Lily wrote that Lord Knightswood was besotted with the baby, despite the infants red-faced rages about who knew what.
According to the nurses, they did not believe the baby was colicky or in any pain whatsoever.
They were left with the idea that the young lady just had a lot of strong opinions and was not afraid of making them known.
Lord Knightswood was interested in hearing about all of them.
The head nurse of the cadre of nurses the lord had hired had tried to tell Lord Knightswood that it was not necessary to come to the nursery in the middle of the night to assure himself that baby Rosamund was still breathing.
That was their job. It was to no avail. He called the baby Rosie and he would insist on checking on her.
Sometimes she raged about it, sometimes she slept in his arms, sometimes she just stared at him with interest. It was all of a piece to him and it was quite endearing.
Poppy could not wait to meet the little lady, though she did hope the rages had subsided by the time she did.
This day, Marigold had ridden over. She’d been in the habit of riding out with Pansy, but had rarely dismounted to come inside. Recently, though, she did come in. Johnny Johns would come and hold the reins on The Turk, as the horse trusted him and was not likely to kick up a fuss over it.
Poppy knew very well that her sister dismounting and coming in was to cheer her up.
Marigold had already given her and Pansy no end of advice, mostly along the lines of they’d had a lucky escape, and nobody should wed unreliable fellows like those two, and did they not remember that Viscount Winkelman was brought to the house for her, had left as unmarried as when he arrived, and everything had ended happy anyway?
These things happen, it was not the end of the world.
It did feel like it was the end of the world though.
Mr. Smuckers and Jimmy brought in the tea tray. Marigold, ever with an appetite, examined the tray of edibles. “Mr. Moreau has sent up his miniature savarins. Good man.”
Smuckers nodded gravely to signal that the approbation would be passed on to the kitchens.
Poppy poured the tea. “Where do you ride today?” she asked.
“Who knows,” Marigold said. “I’m on The Turk. Sometimes it is not worth it to direct him on a route. I will let him choose this one.”
“He’ll want to visit the cows, and the stream, and the apple orchard, like he always does,” Pansy said.
“Probably,” Marigold said. “But he will be happy about it if he is in charge. In any case, I will probably not be able to ride him for some months to come so I will like to indulge him in it.”
“Why should you not ride him? Is there something wrong with him?” Poppy asked.
“Not him, me,” Marigold said, patting her stomach.
“Marigold! How wonderful.”
“Smashing,” Pansy said.
“Yes, but it is still a secret. I have not told Weston yet, though it is getting very hard to hide. I think at first he just thought I was growing fat. Now, though, he keeps staring. I think he suspects so I must tell him soon.”
Pansy laughed. “I thought you were growing thick in the middle, but it must be because of Mr. Weston’s cook. He makes piles of biscuits, you like piles of biscuits…”
“Why the delay, though?” Poppy asked. She was very curious about it. She did not really know when the moment was when a husband should be told.
“Remember, Pops,” Pansy said, “Miss Millthorpe once said something about letting the danger pass.”