Chapter Fifteen
The prevailing wisdom of Society indicated that receiving the cut direct was an experience to be avoided at all costs. However, as the carriage rolled along the tree-lined path toward Fairfield, Eve found she was enjoying the pointed silence from the eldest member of their traveling party.
Though the lady had steadfastly refused to say anything, Eve suspected Mrs. Seymour felt Duke ought to have remained in Epsom, delaying the remainder of his journey indefinitely. Or more likely still, he ought to have discarded his own wishes entirely and made immediately for Writtlestone. Somehow, he had managed to, once again, thwart his grandmother’s unreasonable demands without entirely offending her. It was magic how he could turn her unreasonable complaints into opportunities for flattering her and pleading with her to share her wisdom and bestow the gift of her company on the unworthy people fortunate enough to receive her. And he managed it with a straight face. Magic, without question; Eve could think of no other way to describe it.
Nia was still sleeping. That was more worrisome than Eve cared to admit. She and her sister had made countless carriage journeys over their lifetime. While Nia would sometimes slumber a bit during long legs of their travels, the amount of time she’d spent asleep during the last two days of this journey was not insignificant. Eve didn’t think Nia was pretending to sleep in order to avoid her seat companion. She seemed genuinely and deeply tired, more than could be accounted for by their work at the abandoned inn. The night before, she’d moved stiffly, struggling to undo her dress, no matter that it was one of the easiest to remove. She’d moved slowly and wearily as they’d prepared for the day’s journey that morning. Was she ill?
With that question weighing on her mind, Eve happened to meet Duke’s gaze. Somehow, he conveyed a question with only the slightest lift of his eyebrows. He wanted to know if something was the matter.
Eve offered the tiniest of smiles, an answer she hoped he could understand as easily as she had sorted his question. She was not in need of help or reassurance in that moment, but she was grateful that he’d offered.
He nodded so subtly that she would have missed it if she’d not been watching closely. And she recognized his acknowledgment of her response to his silent question.
They’d grown so close and connected during their time at the abandoned inn. As they always did when she thought of the inn, her thoughts filled with their kiss. Their glorious, heart-stopping, wonderful kiss.
The carriage followed a bend in the road, and framed by the carriage window, a grand house came into view. Evergreen shrubs lined the drive as they passed in front of the tall, redbrick home, creating a striking contrast. Every tree, every shrub, the hedgerows and lawn were all perfectly and elegantly manicured.
Eve all but pressed her face to the carriage window to better see the view. “I had no idea Fairfield was this grand. Most everyone knows the larger Greenberry family is significant in Cornwall. I didn’t realize they have such an impressive holding in Surrey as well.” Tulleyloch was not tiny nor rundown, but it looked like a hovel compared to Fairfield.
“Fairfield belonged to my aunt before she married,” Duke said. “It isn’t a Greenberry holding.”
“But it is now,” she said.
“Actually, no. It remained hers after they married, a condition of their marriage agreement.”
Nothing short of that shocking declaration could have taken her eyes off the vista outside the window. She looked directly at Duke. “Is that even possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It is extremely rare,” he acknowledged.
With a sniff, Mrs. Seymour said, “It is inexcusable that Penelope should have all this and her brother is relegated to so ordinary an estate in the north.”
Eve swore she saw frustration flit quickly through Duke’s eyes as he looked at his grandmother before his expression became conciliatory once more. “Regardless of the circumstances of estates and inheritances, it is for us to show the guests at Fairfield that the Seymour family can be depended upon to be pattern cards of gentility.”
His grandmother sat up straighter and more stiffly, something Eve would not have thought possible. “I am always complimented on my impeccable manners and enviable ability as a hostess.”
Duke dipped his head. “I know you are, and I am depending on it.”
Mrs. Seymour actually smiled at him. Hers was a smile that didn’t fit her face, though, as if her features were so unaccustomed to the expression that they had to be forced into it. “You can depend on me, Dubhán.”
The carriage reached the top of the drive and stopped at the exterior vestibule. Eve took a tight breath. She’d felt out of place at Brier Hill during the last house party, and it was smaller than Tulleyloch. Fairfield, indeed, was no place for a comparatively insignificant Irish lady with no money or future.
The Huntresses are here , she reminded herself. Her dearest friends. And this was likely the last time they would all be together. She would not squander even a moment on such worries.
Eve reached across and gave Nia’s knee a quick pat. Another was required to wake her.
“We’ve reached Fairfield,” Eve said. “I suspect a footman will open the door at any moment. Best shake off the sleep.”
Nia blinked a few times. “Could we tell the footman I’ve swooned and he’ll need to carry me inside?”
“Only if he is particularly handsome,” Eve said.
Nia smiled as she smoothed her clothing. Mrs. Seymour looked completely horrified. A quick glance at Duke, however, revealed that he was holding back his amusement.
I will make you laugh out loud, Dubhán Seymour. And smile fully. Mark my words.
Nia was handed down first. Mrs. Seymour followed. Her immediate listing of complaints to, Eve assumed, the footman stopped the disembarkation.
“Do I have to go inside?” Duke said with a sigh.
Eve turned and looked at him. “I have absolute faith in your bravery, Duke.” She leaned toward him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Her timing was good; a mere moment after she turned back to face the carriage door, the footman pivoted to look inside.
Eve was handed down. She moved to Nia’s side and hooked her arm through her sister’s.
“This is a very impressive home,” Nia whispered.
“I admit to being a bit intimidated.” Eve kept her voice equally as quiet.
Duke, now out of the carriage as well, joined his grandmother and led the procession through the exterior vestibule and into the grand entryway. It was elegant without boasting the least hint of opulence, a simplicity that somehow stood as a greater testament to the owners’ prosperity than a space filled with expensive belongings would have.
“Good heavens,” Nia whispered, looking around with an expression of overawe that matched what Eve felt. “Do you suppose Colm realizes that most of the Huntresses live uncomfortably near to the cliff of poverty?”
“Either he does, and he likes us anyway, or once he discovers the truth, we’ll learn a few things about him that we might rather not know.”
The awe in Nia’s eyes shifted to something closer to mortification. Neither of them had ever loved that their finances didn’t bear scrutiny, but they’d not felt embarrassed by their meager finances whilst with the Huntresses. Eve was feeling a little overwhelmed at how much worse their situation was now. But Nia wasn’t aware of that change. What, then, had her suddenly conscious of their indigence?
They followed Duke to where Colm stood beside a couple of the same generation as the Huntresses’ and Pack’s parents. These, obviously, were his. He bore a striking resemblance to both of them. And the combination was inarguably handsome. He and Scott Sarvol, who had married Gillian, another of the Huntresses, were the sort who constantly turned heads, the sort of handsome that seemed almost impossible.
“Welcome to Fairfield,” Mr. Greenberry said. “We’re pleased you’ve arrived.”
They all exchanged bows and curtsies.
Mrs. Greenberry smiled at her newly arrived family members. Her expression was a little strained but not surprised. “Mother. Duke. ’Tis good to see you both.” She was Irish; it was woven subtly in every syllable she spoke.
“His name is Dubhán,” Mrs. Seymour said tightly.
“I call him by the name he has asked me to use.” The explanation was calm, no sharpness present, yet no one could miss the tension in her explanation.
Duke jumped in, addressing Colm. “Thank you for convincing your parents to host this. I hope you have adequately warned them about the chaos they have invited.”
“Chaos is always more fun when it is unexpected.” Colm grinned, which would have been enough to render a few young ladies in London incapable of speech for several long minutes. “Mother, Father, these lovely young ladies are the O’Doyle sisters.” He motioned to Eve. “Miss Aoife O’Doyle and”—he motioned to Nia—“Miss Niamh O’Doyle.”
Their Irish names, and perfectly pronounced. That seldom happened in England. Eve enjoyed hearing it, but it hadn’t nearly the impact Duke’s whispering of her name had had.
“Miss O’Doyle is generally called Eve,” Colm added, “and Miss Niamh is known as Nia.”
“Irish girls.” Mrs. Greenberry could hardly have looked more pleased. “I’ve not been back to Ireland in far too long.”
“’Tis a place that calls to the heart no matter how far away that heart resides,” Eve said.
“My wife’s accent grows heavier when she’s in company with other Irish people,” Mr. Greenberry said with a happy warning. “By the end of this house party, I will not be able to understand her at all.”
Though Mrs. Greenberry and Colm laughed, Mrs. Seymour did not appear at all amused. But, then, she never did. She looked as if she meant to say something, and that something was unlikely to infuse additional happiness into the exchange.
Duke spoke before she could. “Aunt Penelope, have you heard from my father? He was supposed to meet us at the Wren and Badger in Epsom, but he and Mother had already departed when we arrived, and the innkeeper didn’t know where they’d gone.”
She looked at her nephew with empathy in her eyes. “They are here. I didn’t realize they hadn’t left instructions that you be told of their location, otherwise we would have sent word to the inn.”
“Where is Liam?” Mrs. Seymour demanded.
“I believe he is in the drawing room with the other guests,” Mrs. Greenberry said.
“ Guests ?” Mrs. Seymour scoffed. “You relegate your only brother to a mere guest ?”
“I believe, Grandmother,” Duke said, “she used the word other on account of the O’Doyle sisters being guests.”
Whether or not that was true, it was a rather ingenious bit of placating. Duke truly was an expert at this, which made Eve feel a little sad.
“Colm,” Mr. Greenberry said, “accompany the O’Doyles to the drawing room.”
“I suspect there is a ‘with all possible haste’ hidden in that request,” Colm said.
“If you have such a suspicion,” Mr. Greenberry said, “I wonder that you have not snapped to.” When Mr. Greenberry smiled, his resemblance to his son grew.
Colm responded to his father with a perfectly executed salute. His years in the army were obvious in that moment. With an elegant grace that had likely been terribly out of place during his time fighting in the war against Napoleon, Colm stepped over to where Eve and Nia stood. He offered them each an arm.
“Ought we to run?” Eve asked under her breath with a feigned air of worry.
“Likely,” he said, “but that would ruin the effect, do you not think?”
“And what effect is that?” Eve asked.
“Huntresses don’t retreat,” he said.
“Oh, but we do. All the time.” It was, after all, one of the battle tactics Artemis had taught them, and it had proven remarkably useful over the years.
Colm looked over at Nia. He stopped himself from saying whatever he’d been about to say and made what sounded like an almost unintentional change of topic. “Are you feeling well, Miss Nia?”
“This journey has been more taxing than I expected it to be.” Nia’s answer was a little quieter than was usual for her.
“Then, our very first order of business upon reaching the drawing room will be to procure you a place to sit.”
Color crept up Nia’s neck and to her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Either she truly didn’t feel well and was embarrassed, or she was every bit as in awe of this elegant home as Eve was. It was hard not to be a little embarrassed in thrice-mended gowns when in a house that could, without warning, host royalty.
As they walked away from the entryway, Eve glanced back at Duke. He was, yet again, in the middle of family tension. Colm had been offered an escape, but Duke hadn’t been. Was he ever offered one?
Duke glanced at her, and she gave him a look very much like the one he’d given her in the carriage, one that silently and subtly asked if he was in need of anything. He answered with a tiny shake of his head. He might have added something to it, but her path to the drawing room turned a corner, and she could no longer see him.
“Duke was nervous about your grandmother coming here,” Eve said.
“With good reason, I’m afraid.” Colm sounded as happy as ever, but with a hint of dismay underlying his words. Was any member of the Seymour family not weighed down by the difficulties among them? “You will, I hope, not think me unfeeling if I say that I hope Duke’s parents and our grandmother do not remain long.”
“Far from unfeeling,” Eve said. “Family connections can be complex, and I suspect that with the Pack and the Huntresses here, things are complicated enough already.”
Colm nodded his agreement, though his gaze was on Nia again. She was being very quiet. Even he, who hadn’t known them overly long, must have realized how odd that was for her.
They stepped into yet another undeniably elegant space. On the silk-draped walls hung large portraits, clearly painted by masters of their art. The furniture was of the highest quality. The rugs stretching over the polished wood floor were vibrant and intricately patterned.
“At last!” There was no mistaking Artemis’s voice, though she’d spoken only two words. “I was moments from assembling a hunting party and rushing out in search of you.”
The inarguable leader of their band of friends pulled Eve and Nia without apology or hesitation away from Colm and hugged them each in turn. Though she could at times be dramatic to the point of theatrics, her treatment of the Huntresses was imbued with sincerity.
Her husband, Charlie, was well-known for being both friendly and mischievous, and one of the best-hearted people anyone could possibly meet. He stood among the others gathered a little farther inside the room but turned to look at Eve and Nia. “What happened to delay you?”
“All the rain washed out a bridge on the road,” Eve said.
“Good heavens.” Daria pressed a hand to her heart. “While you were on it?”
They’d not have arrived at all if they’d been on the bridge during the deluge. Daria had a tendency to ask questions with obvious answers. Some in Society were unkind about that. The Huntresses, however, delighted in everything about her.
“The bridge was ahead of us on the road, and we were forced to stop and wait for it to be passable again,” Eve said.
Artemis pulled them over to the group, where they were inundated with words of welcome and hugs and friendship. It was little wonder Eve’s and Nia’s time among London Society had been as pleasant as it had despite their low standing, country of origin, and utter lack of resources. With friends like these, a person was wealthy indeed.
Toss, Daria’s husband, assumed the look of an unrepentant troublemaker. “Anyone care to place a wager on who was grumpiest about the delay?”
In perfect unison, the Pack, except for Colm, said, “Duke.”
Eve laughed lightly. “I will have you know, Duke was not grumpy.”
And standing a bit apart from them all, a woman said, “Of course he wasn’t. My Dubhán is always very helpful and considerate.”
“Oh bother,” Charlie whispered. “I’d forgotten they were in here.”
They proved to be a couple of likely the same age as Mr. and Mrs. Greenberry, with the husband bearing something of a resemblance to their hostess and a strong resemblance to Duke. These were, no doubt, Duke’s parents.
Borrowing a page from Duke’s book, Eve struck a note of conciliation. “He was more than merely helpful in the unexpected difficulty,” she said to his mother. “He was very competent and calm. I don’t know what we’d have done without him there.”
Duke’s mother beamed. His father looked undeniably proud.
Her voice still a little too quiet, Nia asked Artemis, “Where is Lisette?”
“She is expected tomorrow,” Artemis said, studying Nia with a hint of concern, though she didn’t press the matter. “Lisette’s was the longest journey, and we can only hope she did not have to contend with any troublesome bridges.”
“‘A troublesome bridge’ is actually a rather fitting description of the Channel,” Eve said.
Artemis smiled ever more broadly. “It is good to have the two of you here. You always keep things lively.”
Lively. When the Season rolled around again, the Huntresses would be in London enjoying the liveliness of it all. And Eve would be at Tulleyloch, gaining an aching familiarity with loneliness.