Chapter 16
Mary was only lightly apprehensive the next morning as she remembered the strange interaction between the sisters the evening before.
They were both married women, and married to friends of her husband, so it was not as if they were hoping to marry him themselves.
She was not na?ve; she knew that there were other, less savory, relationships between men and women, but she was confident that her husband was not the sort to engage in them, and certainly not with the wife of one of his best friends.
Lingley and his friends had seemed oblivious of the tension the evening before, so she did not want to bring it to her husband’s attention and cause friction in the friendships without cause.
First thing that morning, she had spoken with Madame Durand and Chef Martin about the last-minute dinner party.
Chef had surprised her as rather than raging and complaining as Lady Lucas’s man had done, he was enthusiastic.
He proclaimed that he was ready to show off his skills and rise to the challenge, especially when she informed him that she would leave the menu entirely in his talented hands, as he alone knew best what could be accomplished within their time frame.
Madame Durand gave her a knowing look after the puffed-up man had scampered back to his kitchens and informed her that the house was always kept in superb condition and even the monarch himself would not find fault with her housekeeping.
Mary meekly agreed and took herself off to find her husband to see if he had any requests of her for the evening.
She found him in his father’s study, whistling to himself as he reviewed his letters of business.
“May! Come join me!” he cried, pulling her onto his lap once she had approached near enough.
“I have received excellent news from my man in Meryton. The horses are being treated as princely as they deserve, though it seems that your father is nearly terrified to ride them!” He chuckled darkly.
“And my breeding program is going well, and every mare has kept! You will fall in love with the colts come summer next year!”
“I will be pleased to learn to ride,” Mary grinned, placing a quick kiss on his lips.
“We only had the one riding horse, and she was usually taken up by Jane. She was so old that she could not do more than one ride per day, and Elizabeth always claimed that she could walk faster the Nellie, so I never bothered to ask for a turn. I did learn a little on our pony, Starshine, before she was retired when I was eight.”
“It would not do for the Viscountess Lingley to be stuck on her own two feet! I hope that Madame Courant planned a few riding costumes for you.” Mary nodded.
“Then perhaps we can practice as we travel. Especially on cooler fall days, riding atop a horse will keep you warmer than sitting in a chilled carriage. And the views are lovely from the higher vantage point.”
“Do you have any requests for this evening? Shall we use our usual dining room, or would you prefer to delight them with the state rooms?” she teased.
“I am certain the ladies will enjoy a tour of the public rooms, as they have never been here, but I approve of your plans to use the family dining room. The table is more appropriately sized for the number of couples, and it is closer to the kitchens so the food is always warmer.”
“My thoughts exactly. I gave Chef free rein with his menu so we shall all be surprised this evening. I am certain he plans to amaze us, as you and I both prefer much plainer fare for everyday.”
“You forget, I have been to my mother’s interminable state dinners,” he wiggled his brows. “I hope you told him to keep it to four courses.”
“Oh my…”
∞∞∞
Mary and Durand chose a dinner gown of emerald silk with an overdress of shimmering netting scattered over with emerald and crystal chips and a beautiful leaf design embroidered upon the bodice.
An emerald set had appeared one morning, as apparently Lingley had instructed the jeweler to provide them with stones of every color and she had immediately fallen in love with the delicate botanical design of the setting which included earrings, a layered necklace of dripping vines, several bracelets and a large ring.
Though she felt slightly wicked, she had sent Durand in search of a circlet to match, hoping that by subtly reminding the ladies of her new status, they would remain polite.
Cortez pinned the piece over her forehead and into the sides of her hair, which had been pulled back, and allowed the mass of her curls to tumble over one shoulder.
The maid had also found tiny leaf-shaped hair clips which were used to stunning effect in her curls.
Every piece of jewelry was so dainty that, though the thought of it all combined might have seemed overdone on her small frame, it was completely tasteful.
“You look like a fairy princess, my lady,” Durand declared when they had finished.
“Just as I had hoped,” Mary giggled. “It is my intention to make my husband smile.”
“What shall make me sm—” Lingley stopped to take her in. “May, you are slipping. Your magic has brought Faery with you this evening.”
“Thank you, my prince.” She curtsied low.
“Shall we go down, Princess?”
“Indeed.”
They arrived in the ornate receiving room with ten minutes to wait, and Mary sat herself at the lovely piano-forte to entertain her husband while they did so.
A footman announced the carriage when it arrived, allowing them to prepare themselves for their guests, and they stood together beside a beautiful marble fireplace at the side of the room.
“Your Royal Highnesses, Baron and Baroness Linford and Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.” Monsieur Durand announced with a bow.
Mary gave Lingley a look of surprise, which he returned with a wink. Perhaps, she thought, he was not as oblivious as he had seemed.
“Royal Highnesses?” Mrs. Wilson predictably cried out, flushing deeply.
“Oh, yes,” Lingley waved his hand. “Durand is a stickler for such things. My grandfather gave me a Spanish title of Infante and Don de la Vega soon after my birth. It was reaffirmed by my uncle and the French and Spanish are…” he gave another very Parisian wave.
“It is of little matter to our life in England, usually, unless we are at State events.”
“State events!” she squeaked, eyes wide as saucers, nearly faint with some strong emotion which was difficult to read. “You are a princess?” she demanded, turning to Mary.
“Yes, though the correct term is infanta, we are not in the line of succession after all, and as Lord Lingley said, it matters little in our daily lives.” Mary replied politely before greeting the others.
“Would you care to see the house before we dine? Lord Lingley had mentioned that the ladies have not had a chance to visit previously. The state apartments are astounding.”
“I would enjoy a tour,” Lord Linford declared, offering his arm to Mary while Lingley stepped forward to do the same for Lady Linford.
Mrs. Wilson snatched at Lingley’s free arm, ignoring her husband, who had stepped forward to offer his own.
Mary noted a twitch in his eye, but she called him to her side to join them and led the tour through all of the public rooms, sharing little historical tidbits which she had learned from the housekeeper.
The ladies entertained Lord Lingley, while Mary did the same service for their husbands, and they ended the tour in the magnificent music room.
“Most of the things were removed from the house and hidden during the terror, but they had not time to do so here, so this grand beauty is brand new, replaced by Her Royal Highness the Countess when they traveled through on their way to Spain early this summer. I am told it is by the famed Sebastien Erard and its twin in housed at the Tuileries.”
“It is a beautiful piano-forte,” Mr. Wilson acknowledged with a grin. “Can we hope to hear it played this evening?”
“Certainly, would either of you ladies care to exhibit for us?” Mary offered, as was polite.
Mrs. Wilson immediately stepped forward and, with a coy look at Lingley, settled herself upon the bench. “Will you not turn my pages, your highness?”
“I shall do it for you, sister,” Lady Linford declared, marching forward and setting beside her before she could complain.
They whispered heatedly as they looked through the available music, apparently arguing over an Italian love song before settling on a simple country ballad.
The Lingley’s and the ladie’s husbands listened politely and clapped appropriately when she had finished.
Before Mrs. Wilson could make whatever remark she was stewing over, Durand stepped into the room and announced that dinner was awaiting them.
Mary once again took the arms of both gentlemen and led the way to the lovely family dining room overlooking the rear courtyard garden.