Chapter 10 #2
It wasn’t difficult to see why Lady Pamela would prefer Lord Hawke to the plump Prince Regent, for all that he was destined to become king.
Lord Hawke was wonderfully tall, and, er…
firm, in all the places a gentleman was meant to be firm, and he had the loveliest green eyes imaginable, the same dark green as forest ferns.
What would become of him, if he returned to London now, and took up with that awful Lady Pamela again? Because of course, she must be awful—and spent every night overindulging in brandy and debauchery?
He was a strong, strapping man, but how much abuse could any man’s body endure? If something happened to him, what would become of the boys? They’d be left parentless, and—
“Good day, Miss Templeton!”
The cheerful voice tore her from her musings, and she looked up in surprise to find they’d reached the churchyard, and Lady Goodall and her niece Lady Anne were waiting at the entrance to the church.
“Hullo, Freddy!” Ryan shouted, waving at his friend.
“Don’t shout, if you please, Ryan.”
“Beg pardon, Miss Templeton. Can’t we go and play now?” Etienne turned to her with a pleading look. “Freddy and Ian are waiting for us!”
“Yes, go on. I’ll fetch you when we’re finished.”
The boys raced off, and Helena hurried forward to take Lady Goodall’s outstretched hand. “Lady Goodall, and Lady Anne. How do you do? Oh, dear. Is something amiss? You look rather grim, my lady.”
“Yes, I’m afraid a rather significant impediment has arisen in our plans, but my goodness, is this truly Lord Hawke I see before me? I can scarcely believe my eyes!”
If the comment had come from anyone other than Lady Goodall it might have sounded like a reprimand, but she was all kindness and graciousness, and the smile she offered Lord Hawke was sweetness itself.
“Lady Goodall. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Lord Hawke bowed over Lady Goodall’s hand, then straightened again, a smile on his lips that utterly transformed his face.
Helena stared at him. This wasn’t the surly Lord Hawke that had helped free her from the tree, or the distant Lord Hawke who regarded his sons with a strange sort of detached confusion, as if he’d never laid eyes on them before, nor was it the angry Lord Hawke who’d shouted at her after that fiasco on the staircase.
This was a Lord Hawke she’d only ever had the briefest glimpse of before, the Lord Hawke who lurked beneath the unhappy man she’d encountered on the drive a week ago. Perhaps he didn’t realize it yet, but Hawke’s Run was good for him. He was happy here.
“You remember my niece, of course, my.” Lady Goodall drew Lady Anne forward.
“Of course. I believe she pushed me into the pond once when we were children.” He bowed over Lady Anne’s dainty hand. “How do you do, my lady?”
“As I remember it, I pushed you into the pond because you threw a fish at me, and dirtied my new blue frock.”
He laughed. “Dreadful! I’m surprised you didn’t drown me.”
“Never. It’s lovely to see you, Lord Hawke.” Lady Anne smiled, her cheeks flushing a becoming pink.
“Indeed, my lord, it truly is wonderful to see you in Steeple Barton again. I do hope you intend to stay for a while? Oh, and I must congratulate you on finding such an excellent governess for your sons! We think the world of Miss Templeton, do we not, Anne?”
Lady Anne gave Helena a warm smile. “Indeed, we do, Aunt.”
“Well, we’d best go inside, hadn’t we? We have rather a lot to discuss today.” Lady Goodall took Lord Hawke’s arm, and he escorted her inside.
“My goodness, Lord Hawke is a handsome gentleman, isn’t he?” Lady Anne took Helena’s arm, her pretty face alight with interest. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. Does he not come to church on Sundays?”
Lady Anne wasn’t one who listened to ton gossip, it seemed. “He only just arrived at Hawke’s Run from London last week, my lady.”
“Oh. Well, it’s lovely of him to take an interest in the Ladies’ Benevolent Society’s doings. Not many gentlemen do, I’m afraid.”
“No. I confess I’m quite surprised he came this morning.” It was the very last thing she would have expected of him, but it wasn’t the first time he’d surprised her, was it?
Nearly every lady in Steeple Barton was a member of the Benevolent Society, so the anteroom to one side of the chapel was crowded with nearly two dozen women, all of them chattering at once.
Lady Codswaddle was holding forth on some topic or other, as she tended to do, while poor Miss Fanning scurried about, trying to find chairs for everyone.
But when Lord Hawke walked in with Lady Goodall, every head turned in their direction, and little by little the chatter ceased, and the room plunged into silence. Some of the ladies merely stared at him curiously, but some appeared to recognize him, and began whispering to each other.
Lady Goodall didn’t pay any mind to them, but gave Lord Hawke’s arm a little pat, and took her place at the head of the room.
“Good afternoon, ladies. Christmas day draws near, and we’ve a good deal to accomplish still if we’re to turn a tidy profit for the St. Mary’s Poor Fund. Before we begin, however, I must—”
“What’s to be done about the Christmas pies, my lady?” Lady Codswaddle’s nasal voice rose about the chatter. “Mrs. Holcroft always makes them, but she’s been called away to her daughter in Tidmington, and I don’t see how we’re to have a Christmas fete without Christmas pies.”
“My dear Lady Codswaddle, there’s no need to fret. The Christmas pie crisis will be addressed, I assure you, but we’ve a more pressing problem to deal with first.”
“I can’t think what could be more pressing than Christmas pies.” Lady Codswaddle drew herself up with an important sniff. “Why, it’s not Christmas at all without—”
“The ballroom at Goodall Abbey has flooded,” Lady Goodall interrupted. “I’m very sorry for it, ladies, but the floors were destroyed, and they’ll all have to be torn out. It’s going to take months, and that means the Christmas fete can’t be held at Goodall Abbey.”
A gasp went up.
“Not be held at Goodall Abbey! But the St. Mary’s Ladies’ Benevolent Society’s Annual Christmas Fete always takes place at Goodall Abbey!” Lady Codswaddle shrieked. “It’s tradition.”
“I’m aware of that, but there’s nothing to be done.” Lady Goodall gave a helpless shrug. “We’ll simply have to find another place this year.”
“There isn’t any other place! Goodall Abbey is the only residence with a ballroom large enough to accommodate us! Oh dear, oh dear, this is dreadful, indeed!” Lady Codswaddle fumbled in her reticule for a handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes. “We’ll have to cancel the fete!”
“Cancel it! We can’t cancel it!” Miss Fanning wailed. “What’s to become of the Poor Fund if we cancel it?”
“Well, the poor will simply have to manage for themselves, won’t they?” Lady Codswaddle snapped. “The fete is only five days away! We’ll never find a place on such short notice.”
Miss Fanning began to cry then, and Lady Codswaddle to scold, and every voice in the anteroom rose to a fever pitch, half the ladies shouting out suggestions while the other half shook their heads and pronounced the fete finished, for certain.
Helena didn’t say a word.
She sat quietly in the midst of the chaos, turning an idea over in her mind.
Could it work? She’d have to set it in motion quickly, right this minute, and Lord Hawke was likely to be utterly furious with her, but then, what was the worst that could happen? He’d be angry, yes, but it would keep him here for a few more days, at least.
A great deal could happen in five days.
It would be an excellent way to draw him back into the community, as well. Perhaps by the end of it the lure of London and that dreadful Lady Pamela would fade, and he’d make up his mind to stay at Hawke’s Run for good.
It would be a great deal of fuss and bother, of course, but if she could see the thing done, it would help everyone. Surely, he’d recognize that, once he got over his pique?
She rose to her feet, her mind made up. “I beg your pardon, Lady Goodall, but Goodall Abbey’s ballroom isn’t the only place in Steeple Barton large enough to accommodate the fete.”
“Ladies, ladies!” Lady Goodall rapped her cane on the floor to get everyone’s attention. “For pity’s sake, I can’t hear myself think! Do endeavor to remember that you are in fact ladies, if you please. Now, Miss Templeton, did you have something you wished to say?”
“Yes, thank you, my lady. I merely wish to point out that the ballroom at Hawke’s Run’s is quite large enough to fit all the residents of Steeple Barton, and the surrounding area besides.”
“Hawke’s Run!” Lord Hawke shot to his feet. “You can’t mean to suggest—”
“Indeed, I do, my lord.” Helena turned her most ingratiating smile on the surrounding ladies. “I move that the St. Mary’s Ladies’ Benevolent Society Christmas Fete be held at Hawke’s Run this year.”