Chapter Two #2
Robert shushed him and Fiona gave him a curious look before they guided us across the stone entry hall through an enormous arched opening.
Fiona and Robert were one of only a few love matches from my debut season in society.
Fiona had come out a year before I arrived in London and had garnered several offers of marriage, even though she told me the gentlemen called her “Her Highness” behind her back.
The name had nothing to do with royalty.
Like all the Hazeltons, Fiona was tall—taller than me.
I’d been on the spot the night she met Sir Robert Nash and began to fall in love with him.
She had confided that he brought to mind a Viking, with his fair hair, chiseled features, and large presence.
A baronet courting an earl’s daughter, he had had an uphill battle with her family, but with Fiona on his side, it was a battle he was destined to win. They’d married only a few months later.
The Nashes led us through an antechamber and under another stone archway into the drawing room.
This room was far warmer and less echoey than the entry hall.
Though the coffered ceiling was high, carpets covered the floor and intricate tapestries lined the walls, absorbing rather than reflecting all the noise a family makes upon coming together.
“I realize nothing appears festive yet, but we waited to decorate until your arrival.” Fiona invited us to take seats around the cozy fire. “Though I warn you, we won’t have long for tea if you intend to refresh yourselves or change out of your traveling clothes,” she informed us.
“Whatever do you mean, Fi?” George asked. “We’ve been traveling for six hours. I, for one, wish to eat and refresh myself. Why is there not time for both?”
“Surely we’re not in such a hurry, are we, my love?” Robert held a bottle of some spirited liquor in his hand and wore an expression of such abject disappointment that I was certain Fiona would give in.
A smile graced her narrow face, but I saw a hint of steel in those green eyes.
She lifted her chin so as to look down her long, aristocratic nose to deliver a warning glance.
Fiona had made plans for our evening, and there would be no diverting her from their execution.
She waved a hand at the tea table, which held a veritable mountain of delicate sandwiches and pretty cakes.
“Of course you may do both,” she said, “but you must be quick about it. There is no time to dally if we are to be on time for the play this evening.”
As one who knows when it’s pointless to argue with his wife, Robert returned the liquor to its cabinet and sat down to prepare a plate for himself. The trio joined him, along with Grace and Gregory.
“How much time have we, Fi?” I asked. “And where are we going?” I, too, knew when it was fruitless to argue—at least with Fiona. George frowned but moved around the sofa to snag a sandwich.
“There is a Christmas play at the village church. Grace is one of the players, so we must attend.”
“It’s A Christmas Carol,” Grace announced. Her voice squeaked with excitement. “I play one of the Cratchit children.”
“Scrooooge,” Gregory howled, sending both younger girls into squeals and giggles. In the next minute, their heads came together, and whispers ensued.
“You children had better attend to your tea,” I told them. “It sounds as if we haven’t much time.”
Fiona brought her hands together, as if she were sending up a prayer. “It begins at six, and Grace must arrive at half five, which means we should leave in about thirty minutes. We’ll dine when we return home.”
Fiona had clearly planned this down to the last minute. “Goodness, then I’d better pour myself a cup of tea,” I said.
We left before a full thirty minutes had passed.
None of us had bothered to change from our traveling clothes.
I assured myself that Rose and George had consumed enough food to keep them from becoming grouchy during the play and that I had consumed enough tea to keep myself from falling asleep.
Christine and Lissette were still too excited about their new surroundings to be anything but congenial, even when we ventured back out in the cold drizzle to be packed into one of Robert’s two carriages.
“This isn’t rain,” Robert said as Fiona efficiently split us into two groups outside the manor. “It’s only a sprinkle. And in a few more hours it will be snowing. You can smell it in the air.”
This garnered an “ooh” from the young people.
“I hope we are all safely back at Hadley Grange before it gets too deep,” George added in an ominous tone.
“The program is less than two hours,” Fiona said, taking him seriously. “We shall certainly be back at home before the weather becomes unruly.” She waved a hand at the first carriage. “Come along.”
The drive down the worn lane to the village high street and up a hill to the church took all of fifteen minutes.
Robert’s coachmen pulled up to the front of the church, and we all dashed for the large double doors, then shook off our cloaks once we were inside the crowded vestibule.
“The assembly room is to your left,” Fiona called out to us.
“Don’t wait for me. I must get Grace settled with the players. ”
Fiona waggled her fingers in our direction before she bustled her daughter off down the hallway. We followed the crowds to the assembly room, a recent addition to the church.
“What a charming gathering,” Hetty observed as we squeezed through a short hallway that connected the old building to the new.
It opened to a large hall, which was probably used for country dances but tonight had a stage on one side, facing long rows of chairs filled with the local villagers.
One, a shortish, sturdy man of about sixty years of age, came to his feet upon seeing Robert. His dress indicated country gentry.
“Good evening, Sir Robert!” He gripped Robert’s hand and pumped it a few times.
“What a jolly surprise to see your family here for this Christmas.” He pulled the lady beside him to her feet as he passed his gaze over the rest of us, trapped behind Robert and the crowd. “Ah, but where is Lady Fiona?”
Robert gave the man a good-natured smile. “Good evening, Doctor. Grace has a small role in the play, and my wife is getting her settled. Meanwhile, we’ve recruited our relatives from London to make up the audience for our amateur theatricals. Clever of us, don’t you think?”
I caught Robert’s wink as he cast a glance back at us, the captive audience. “Not true at all,” I protested. “We have come willingly and are prepared to be entertained.”
“Then I hope you won’t be disappointed, ma’am,” the woman said in a soft voice.
The man Robert had called Doctor gave me a close look. “I believe it should be my lady, should it not? I’m certain we’ve met before.”
“That’s very possible, sir,” I said. “Lady Fiona is a dear friend, and I have visited often over the years.” I didn’t recognize him, however.
“Forgive my ill manners,” Robert said, gesturing to George and me.
“I have a terrible habit of assuming everyone knows everyone else. This is my wife’s brother, Mr. Hazelton, and his wife.
If you have met before, it must have been prior to their marriage, when she was Lady Harleigh.
Along with my wife, I, too, consider Frances a dear friend, and she has been gracing us with her visits for many years. ”
“But those visits have usually taken place in the summer months,” I added.
“Completely understandable,” the doctor said. “It takes a hardy sort to spend much time in this area during the winter.”
Robert completed the introductions, and we learned that the couple were Joshua Penhollow, local doctor and country squire, and his wife, Ada.
It turned out George and I had met both of them before.
It had been a couple of years since our meeting, and it had been brief.
The last time I’d been in Norfolk was for a summer house party in honor of Robert’s birthday, and the Penhollows had been invited to the grand reception on the final day.
“Mr. Penhollow!” The shriek came from a woman behind me.
“I might have known you’d be at the center of this disturbance,” she continued.
“You are keeping us all from our seats.” The woman who spoke jostled her way closer, revealing a buxom figure and warm brown hair liberally streaked with gray around her lined and freckled face.
She looked vaguely familiar, but I ceased my study of her because she was correct. We were all blocking the aisle.
Penhollow sent her a glare. “Dr. Penhollow.”
“You had better take your seat, or we’ll be standing here all night.” She motioned for us to move into a row of chairs. “The play is soon to begin,” she added.
“You are absolutely right, Mrs. Digby,” Robert said. “We can’t hold up the performance, can we? Or the audience, for that matter.”
“You must join us,” Penhollow insisted. “We’ve just the right number of seats in this row, even allowing for Lady Fiona.
” Since he had already brought his wife to her feet and into the aisle to allow us access to the row, it would have been rude to ignore his request. We all stepped sideways into the row and took our seats.
Robert entered last, right after George and me, and left the seat next to Mrs. Penhollow empty.
“I don’t know if my wife will join us or not,” he said. “She may find it easier to remain backstage with Grace.”
The woman he’d called Mrs. Digby was seated behind us. She leaned forward, her head between Robert and me. “Is your daughter in the play, Sir Robert? How lovely. What role does she have?” I noticed she had no trouble using the correct title for Robert.
He grinned at the woman. “I believe she is to play both a street urchin and one of the Cratchit children. Neither of which is a speaking role, something that is likely to cause her no end of frustration.”