Chapter Fifteen #2
“Thank you.” I stole one last glance at my mother’s profile—for the sake of my daughters, I reminded myself—and then turned my eyes to the portly pawnbroker. “Keep it at the back of the case, will you?”
“Of course, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
I was a few steps out of the shop when I heard someone call my name: “Lady Bramley!” At the sound of the nasal voice, I felt a quick surge of alarm.
Lavinia Enright had the unique distinction of being both the wife of the district’s largest landholder and its most grating personality.
She and her husband were often at court.
I had, somehow, cultivated a friendship—by exterior measures, a great success.
By interior, a greater sacrifice. But this day, I had specific need of her.
“Lady Enright!” I cried, thinking ahead already to what I would ask.
Or rather, suggest. “What a pleasurable surprise!”
“Well, you know me.” She bustled forth, mound of curly hair swaying as she sidestepped two customers emerging from the apothecary.
“I try to avoid the market days, the hoi polloi, but what with all the recent turn of events—” She paused to raise her eyebrows up and down a few times, and then, sotto voce, whispered, “The royal ball,” and glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder, as if the common people would overhear and show up en masse.
“We needed a few odds and ends. The timeline! They’ve given us no time to prepare!
” She held up a hand as if I had started to speak, which I hadn’t, and turned to face her two daughters, twins who waited behind her in matching dresses and bonnets.
“Girls, say hello to Lady Bramley.”
The twins curtsied in unison. “Good day, Lady Bramley.”
“Hello, Bethesda,” I said, not quite making eye contact with one.
“And Bethia,” I added, vaguely, to the other.
I could never tell them apart. The matching names did not help.
One of them, Bethesda, was easily perturbed by fast-moving objects.
I had once seen her driven to tears by a falling pine cone.
But, unless there were a rapid movement to aid me, I was at a loss.
“You’re both looking…” I searched for a word.
“Fresh.” The girls had no chins. An unfortunate aesthetic trait they had inherited from their mother.
The Enright family had ten thousand acres, two carriages, tenant farmers to work their land, rental income, and social influence.
There were four children, including a male heir, Finnian, who was now a page to the prince.
The Enright progeny didn’t need chins. (And besides, what Lavinia and her brood lacked in a jawline, her husband more than made up for. He had, by my latest count, three.)
“How fortuitous to run into you,” I exclaimed. It was for women like Lavinia that I had to maintain our facade. Finnian, even at seventeen, was technically a potential match for my daughters. “Rosamund and Mathilde and I were only just saying how much we missed you all.”
Lavinia nodded confidently. “There is nothing as reassuring as female friendship.”
“Certainly,” I agreed. “The ball will be a marvelous time for them to see one another. I am in town myself looking for their feathers and some extra cloth.” I hoped this would explain my exit from the pawnbroker’s, but we stood in front of a whole row of shops: shoemakers, glovers, tinsmiths, and drapers. I could have come from any one of them.
Lavinia was distracted by the knowledge of our attendance. “I had the girls’ dresses made in the city ages ago—always be ready for a ball, that’s what my mother used to say. Summer and winter gowns at the ready. One must be prepared.”
I paused, overwhelmed simultaneously by Lavinia and the noxious fumes coming off a nearby dung heap.
She used the opportunity to take hold of my arm.
“Come, let’s walk,” she insisted. “If you don’t have something made, the silk merchant will be the place to look.
” She began to lead me along the road, past a long line of timber-framed houses.
“Girls, come, come!” The twins fell in line behind us, and we proceeded as a quartet.
Lavinia continued, pulling us to one side to avoid a particularly messy-looking patch of mud: “It is a merry circumstance indeed, all our girls coming out at the same ball. Mine are a bit young, I know, but this is a season not to be missed.” Again, she fell into an exaggerated whisper.
“The prince,” she said, and pursed her lips with pleasure, imagining, I was sure, a match for one of her daughters.
Glancing back to look at them, I couldn’t help but feel, despite their sallow faces, a little stir of competition.
“I have heard some conjecture that he is looking to marry,” I acknowledged. Through a gap in the timbered houses, I could see laystalls in the rear yards that had been filled with animal entrails, feces, and rotting vegetables. It explained the smell.
Lavinia cut in: “He is marvelously talented. A wonderful conversationalist. Extremely handsome. He cuts a dashing figure, to be sure.”
“You are lucky to be so acquainted!”
“My Finnie tells me all. And he has told me this is not just any ball; it’s a chance for the prince to choose.
” She told me this as if I had not shared the same information a moment before.
“Of course, I heard he had an engagement to a princess from one kingdom over”—she lowered her voice again—“and it fell through. Anyhow, my girls have known His Royal Highness for years; they’ve been to many of the same places and even occasionally at the same time!
I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to say there’s a good chance one of them could be spending more time at the palace, but I bet they’ll get a dance in at the least.”
A glance backward indicated the twins had little opinion—or perhaps say—in the matter.
I offered an encouraging smile before turning back to their mother.
“Your Finnian is surely a fixture at court by now.” Young Finnie probably weighed one hundred pounds.
I doubted he was a fixture anywhere. “You must miss him.”
“Where else would I have him? I see him plenty. He’s back now, this very moment sitting drinking ale with the other men, right here in town.
He’s here to scout one of the hunting expeditions.
You know we have the perfect marshes on our land for waterfowl?
Finnie has naturally suggested the property as well situated for a hunt.
His father minds not in the least. Not in the least!
In fact, Finnie has proved invaluable because of his knowledge.
They’ve put together a party and are going after grouse and bustard—”
It was easy to let Lavinia talk. You only had to make small noises now and then and she kept going.
We had almost managed to go the length of the street, which ended at the silk merchant’s shop, and I hadn’t needed—or been given an opportunity—to ask a question.
When Lavinia had nearly exhausted herself, finally pausing to take a breath, I found an opening.
“Are you staying in town for the ball?” I interjected.
“In an inn?” She wrinkled her nose.
“It’s just not proper. For the girls.” I shook my head in agreement. “But it’s such a long carriage ride for them. So boring. They’ll be like wilted flowers when they arrive.”
Lavinia furrowed her brow. “They’ll have to perk up.”
I leaned toward her. “After all that time in a hot carriage? With such a low roof and little air?”
Lavinia trembled at the thought.
“If only,” I thought out loud, “there were a way to keep them fresh. Some way to keep them entertained—”
“I know!” she cried. “We’ll bring them together. They’ll keep one another amused.”
Though I was delighted, I protested: “Certainly that’s out of your way! And far too generous!” I didn’t mean a word of it. The Enrights had a massive carriage with equipage pretty enough to make up for two hours in a confined space with Lavinia.
“Nonsense,” she disagreed. “We have the extra seats; you’ll come with us. We’ll drop you off again at the end of the evening.”
We had reached the silk merchant’s and came to a stop. I shook my head before going inside. “Well.” I sighed. “You’ve given me no choice but to accept.”
After securing the cloth for the girls, I had one last task.
The village had three drinking houses, and instinct alone sent me looking for Finnian in the least respectable of them.
The dim lighting and thick air did little to disguise seats missing their upholstery and the lingering smell of unwashed bodies.
Weathered faces and dull eyes stared into duller tankards of beer.
Near the sole window, an old crone could barely keep herself on her stool.
In my silk jacket, I was as noticeable as a dahlia growing in a barren field.
I was relieved when I spied young Finnie in a corner.
He was pink in the face, alone, though there were enough empty tankards around him to suggest he had once had company. Had I looked under the table, I was certain his feet would be dangling a few inches above the floor.
“Finnian,” I said sternly, waving some of the pipe smoke out of the way, though the gesture did little good.
He tried to focus on my face. “Yes?”
“You must tell me when you will be hunting with the royal entourage.”
He narrowed his little-boy eyes and hiccupped.
“Come on, then.”
“What do you care for hunting?” He hiccupped once more. “You’re a woman.” He slumped a little at the observation.
I rubbed my hands together, impatient. Down the row of tables, a man with a scarred face and mismatched shoes fixed me with a stare. “I commend your powers of analysis.”
“What are you doing in an alehouse?”
“There are other women here.” I glanced around.
There were no other reputable women there.
“Your mother couldn’t help but sing your praises in the market just now.
And I thought: I bet Finnian could assist me.
She said you knew every little thing about fowl this time of year.
I am planning a party and I want the perfect bird on the table.
I thought perhaps you could get one for me during your next hunt. When is your next hunt?”
He watched me. “It’s true. I know everything there is to know about teal. And mallards.”
“A verified expert, I hear.” I waited a moment, then repeated: “When is the hunt?”
He held up a finger. “Take mallards. The female quacks are softer. More subdued. Males have a distinct and louder quack.”
I nodded. “That does not come as a surprise—”
“And they follow their mother from birth.”
“Yes, and then we eat them. Your knowledge must be prized at court.”
He bobbed his head enthusiastically, and I interrupted, before he could tell me more about the ducks. “Will you tell me where you will hunt this evening?”
“I can’t,” he protested. “For we are not hunting until tomorrow.”
“Shame.” I tutted. “For the party is tonight.”
But I smiled to myself as I turned away, for I had gotten the information I needed.