Chapter 21
Violet and Lillian arrived at Alexander’s London home by mid-morning the next day.
Alexander’s hair was brushed and silky smooth, tied back at the nape of his neck.
His beard was trimmed and as close to civilized as it came.
He allowed a servant to open the door while he stood within the hallway, waiting to greet his guests.
The door was opened to reveal the beautiful, smiling face of Violet.
Lillian stood behind her, her face visible over Violet’s shoulder.
For a moment, Alexander was struck by the similarity between the two women, though one’s hair was fair and the other dark.
He dismissed the thought as Violet stepped over the threshold and he came forward to greet her.
Cousins share the same blood, as do siblings. There is no reason they should not share the same features.
“Your Grace,” Violet greeted formally, lowering herself into a curtsy.
Lillian followed suit and Alexander bowed in response.
“Lady Violet, Lady Lillian. My house is yours,” he said.
The reward was a widening of Violet’s dazzling smile. She came to him and he took her hand, brushing his lips against the back of her hand. Lillian received the same treatment and he turned to indicate the door which led to the drawing room.
“Please, be my honored guests. Tea is prepared,” he said courteously.
“My, how you have learned, Your Grace,” Violet grinned.
Alexander was conscious of the presence of servants and supposed that was the reason for Violet’s reversion to formality. He did not object, it gave him the chance to practice.
Besides, I have taken too many risks already to take chances with my own household.
The drawing room was sparsely furnished as was the rest of the house.
There was no time to rectify that. But a fire burned in the grate, warming the room for his guests, though it left Alexander slightly uncomfortable.
As the two ladies settled themselves on two of the three chairs that furnished the room, Alexander closed the door, giving them privacy.
“I had a thought about today’s lesson, Alexander,” Violet said, using his first name much to his relief.
“I am…all ears,” Alexander replied, searching for the right expression.
“A useful skill would be mastering the etiquette of dining. Particularly, as we will be dining out in public. To be able to attend a dinner or luncheon with other guests will go a long way to making you fit in with the Ton.”
“You mean to say there are rules even to dining?” Alexander asked, leaning forward.
“Of course. Do you perhaps have a full dinner set of cutlery and crockery?” Violet asked.
“I have no idea. But I will find out.” Alexander bounced to his feet, keen to begin. Then a thought occurred to him and he turned back.
“Lady Lillian. It may interest you to know that a copy of my estate's accounts was delivered to me from my solicitor less than an hour ago. I ordered it as a matter of urgency for your arrival.”
Lillian’s eyes lit up. “I should very much like to see that,” she glanced at Violet, “but perhaps after we have done our work.”
“Indeed. That is our priority,” Violet said.
Alexander acknowledged that with a bow of his head.
It seemed Violet was intent on allowing him to keep his word, though she clearly had misgivings about her cousin pursuing a traditionally male profession.
He did not see anything wrong with it but did not want to put himself on a collision course with Violet over it.
He left the room to organize formal dinner things and presently the dining room table was set.
There was only one formal place setting, much to Alexander’s embarrassment. But Violet seemed unconcerned.
“Please sit, Alexander,” she said, indicating that he should take the place that had been set.
Alexander sat and tried not to look as bewildered as he felt when faced with the full panoply of spoons, knives, forks, glasses, and plates. Violet sat next to him, turned in her seat to face him, and began her instructions.
“We have a different set of cutlery to use for each course. Soup, fish, meat, dessert, etcetera. We begin with those situated furthest out and work our way in.”
She nodded to the knife and fork further out. Alexander looked at them for a moment and then picked up the knife, deftly flipping it so that he held its blade downwards as though to spear his food. Violet reached out and gently reversed it.
“Hold it like this, as though it were a pen,” she directed.
Alexander nodded, flushing. He had, of course, observed others at meals, both as a guest and a host. But, he had paid little attention to what they were doing, focusing on trying to fit into their conversation.
It seemed logical to him to stab his meat with the knife in order to lift it to his mouth.
Under Violet’s direction, he learned how the civilized English went about the business of dining.
It made little sense to him, seeming to consist of rules for making a simple act far more complicated than it needed to be.
But he dutifully obeyed and with a ferocity of attention, committed the rules to memory as they were explained to him.
Violet went through the myriad of courses a formal meal consisted of, instructing on different kinds of wine that would be served with each course and which glass they would be poured into.
Then came the rules of conversation, with whom to talk, and how to manage eating and talking to avoid the cardinal sin of speaking with a mouthful of food.
Alexander had never been a strong pupil.
When being tutored as a boy, he had been more inclined to run off and climb trees.
In Glasgow, his interest had been in running the streets with the urchins who were the same age as him.
Now though, under Violet’s eyes, he applied himself as never before.
With each remembered rule, she glowed with pride.
In return that made Alexander strive all the harder to impress her, to show her that her hard work was not wasted.
By God, if I’d had a teacher like her as a boy I would be Dean of Glasgow University by now!
“Shall we put some of this new learning to test, Vi?” Lillian asked as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two. “We could take a walk through Hyde Park and then take luncheon somewhere.”
“Great idea! Ma belly thinks ma throat’s been cut!” Alexander exclaimed, lapsing unconsciously into the vernacular.
Violet looked astonished and Lillian laughed aloud. She tried to repeat what he had said, accent and all, but made a terrible hash of it. That made Alexander roar with laughter, while Violet concealed her own mirth behind a delicately raised hand. Alexander glanced at her.
“I mean to say. That is a capital notion, Lady Lillian. I am quite famished,” he said in a perfect English accent.
“I prefer the first thing you said,” Lillian grinned.
“But the second will not sound so jarring to the members of the Ton. I would say practice in private so that it becomes second nature in public,” Violet replied.
Then she glanced mischievously at Alexander, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Having said that, I do much prefer your natural accent. So much more natural and quite lovely.”
“Aye, but no welcome amid the upper classes of London. Point taken,” Alexander replied.
They prepared to go outside and were presently walking along Brompton Row towards the Knight’s Bridge with the green expanse of Hyde Park beyond.
Alexander took the outside position on the pavement, to protect the ladies from anything that might be thrown up from the road by the wheels of passing carriages.
He set off a brisk pace until he realized his companions were having to take quick, jogging steps to keep up.
He slowed and Violet gave him a secret smile.
Then, offering his arm to her, he walked at a more sedate pace.
The feel of Violet’s light touch on his forearm quickly became the focus of his attention.
The scent of her perfume drifted to him, making him want to inhale deeply but fearing that it would look too obvious.
When possible, he glanced down at her as they walked, admiring the smoothness of her cheeks and her delicate, feminine profile.
Again, seeing Lillian just beyond her, also in profile, he was struck by their similarity.
“Hair color aside, you two have the look of sisters,” he remarked.
Violet and Lillian looked at each other. “I had not thought of it before,” Violet said. “But you are right.”
“I suppose when we believed we were sisters it was not a matter of remark. Then when we knew we were not, we stopped seeing any similarity, knowing as we did that there was no close relation between us. So, we do not look for the resemblance,” Lillian said.
“But it is there,” Violet said thoughtfully. “Though I do not think I see it in Aunt Charlotte or Cousin Clara.”
Alexander shrugged. “I have known children who resembled neither of their parents but were the spitting image of their grandparents.”
They crossed Knightsbridge and entered Hyde Park.
Alexander felt the tension rising within him as they began to see other ladies and gentlemen walking and riding.
Violet patted his arm, pressing herself slightly against his side.
When he looked down at her, she smiled up reassuringly.
He greeted the first gentleman they came across, lifting his hat and offering a good afternoon.
The next was a Member of Parliament, a member of the Tory party, but he stopped to exchange pleasantries on the subject of the weather before moving on.
A man and his wife, a Lord and Lady that Alexander recognized but whose name escaped him, stopped, and then walked on with the three for a short distance.
That conversation ended with the Lord passing on his card to Alexander with a promise given to luncheon sometime during the week at a club, to discuss future business matters.
Alexander felt himself gaining in confidence and the presence of Violet next to him was a significant factor in that.
Then they rounded a bend in the path ahead and suddenly came face to face with Ambrose Devereaux.