Chapter Twelve
Freya spotted the carriage from her bedroom window. Patting her hair in place and smoothing out the wrinkles in her day dress, she rushed to warn her aunt of the visitors. She had hoped to see Lord Graham’s coach on the road, but she supposed Miss Whitchurch’s carriage would do as well.
“Guests,” she warned her aunt as she rushed into Aunt Felicity’s sitting room. “Miss Whitchurch’s coach is traveling the main road to the vicarage.”
“Just the young lady?” her aunt asked as she dumped her sewing in a nearby basket and covered it with a crocheted cloth.
“I have no idea,” Freya declared as she joined her aunt in plumping the pillows. “I imagine it is several of the ladies from Thom Manor.”
“Find Sarah and order tea and cakes. I shall answer the bell when it is rung,” her aunt instructed. “Your uncle and I are not accustomed to frequent callers. Your presence in the household has brought us more company than usual, not that I am complaining.”
Freya wanted to see who stepped down from the coach, but, instead, she did what her aunt instructed.
Fortunately, Sarah was just in the servants’ entrance, so Freya sent the girl back to the kitchen and returned to where her aunt waited for the bell.
Freya’s curiosity had her leaning to the side to watch each woman step down from the coach.
“Lady Orson, the majestic one,” she whispered, as her aunt motioned her away from the window, but Freya did not budge.
She knew she and Aunt Felicity were alike when it came to curiosity.
“Lady Beaufort. Red headed, like me. Lady Marksman, Lord Duncan’s daughter.
Favors her mother. You recall Lady Elsbeth Duncan, do you not?
” Her aunt nodded before moving closer to Freya so she might view the ladies, as well.
When Miss Whitchurch stepped down, and the women turned towards the door, Freya whispered, “Miss Victoria Whitchurch. You recall her name from the previous visit.”
The knocker was released, but her aunt stopped Freya from reaching for the door. Aunt Felicity held up her fingers, one by one, counting to ten and then beginning again before she caught the lock to release it. “Good day,” she said, keeping Freya behind her.
“Are you, Mrs. Turner?” Lady Orson asked in that special tone the woman had perfected which announced her importance.
“Yes, my lady,” her aunt responded in breathy tones.
“I am Lady Orson,” Her Ladyship said. “We have come to call on Lady Freya.”
“Of course. Come in,” her aunt stated as she stepped back, nearly stepping on Freya’s toes. “Freya,” she called, then pretended she did not know Freya was behind her. “Oh, there you are, my dear. You have company. How divine!”
As was customary for Lady Orson she gave Freya a gentle hug. “I hope you do not mind if we called unannounced.”
“Assuredly not,” Freya declared with a large smile and returned an appropriate embrace before she reached for Lady Annalise and then Miss Whitchurch.
“You recall my sister in marriage, do you not?” Lady Annalise asked with only the slightest hint of awkwardness in her tone. “Lady Marksman.”
“Of course,” Freya said. “It is good to see you, Lady Theodora. It has been several years since we crossed paths.”
“Yes. Yes, it has,” the young woman repeated. “Thank you and your aunt for receiving us without an invitation.”
“None required in the country,” Freya’s aunt said dutifully. “Permit me to take your wraps. I sent my maid to fetch tea and refreshments.”
“Come this way,” Freya instructed. “My aunt has a lovely sitting room.”
For nearly a half hour, they conversed about weather in the northern shires versus that in Kent, the Short Season and the upcoming Season in London, and those her aunt used to know before she married.
Freya instinctively realized her new friends wished to speak to her privately about something they thought she should know, but her Aunt Felicity was quite engrossed in the conversation of ballrooms and reminiscing over her own courtship with Mr. Philip Turner.
Eventually, Freya was able to suggest, “Perhaps the ladies would like to view Uncle Philip’s church.
The nave is some two hundred years old. Wonderful architecture. ”
“Oh, yes,” her aunt said. “It is so lovely. Please say you have time for a quick tour. It would please Mr. Turner to know you saw it.”
Lady Emma presented Freya a slight nod, an acknowledgment of Freya’s understanding of the purpose of their visit.
Like it or not, Freya felt more connected to these women than she did to her actual sister.
Recognizing her part in this charade, she said, “I did not think when I made the suggestion. How foolish of me. Shall you be up to climbing the hill, Lady Beaufort? It is a bit steep.”
“Pardon?” her aunt inquired.
Lady Annalise presented Freya the same slight nod as she had received from Lady Emma. “Your niece, ma’am,” Lady Annalise said in sweet tones, “worries for my condition. I am some five months along in my hopes of presenting Lord Beaufort with an heir. It is kind of Lady Freya to worry for me.”
“Naturally,” Aunt Felicity said. “How wonderful for you, Lady Beaufort. I recall such worries when I was carrying both my son Ralph and my daughter Caroline. They are both married now and living in Suffolk, where Mr. Turner and I lived previously. Caroline presented her husband with a son a year back, and we understand our Ralph and his wife Alice are with child. Perhaps you and Freya might wish to sit under the large oak.” Her aunt glanced to the clock.
“It is near time for Mr. Turner to rehearse his Sunday sermon. Not that he would mind an audience, but I know you do not wish to hear his murmurings in between his efforts. Men, no matter how religious or irreligious, can be mundane in such matters.”
“Yes, I am confident you are correct,” Lady Emma said as she rose gracefully. Everything the woman did was pure perfection.
Aunt Felicity followed as did each of them. “Come along, my ladies.” Her aunt caught Miss Whitchurch’s arm, and Ladies Emma and Theodora followed. Meanwhile Freya and Lady Annalise made their way to the bench at a much slower pace.
“You shall assuredly make our Lord Graham a fine wife,” Lady Annalise whispered as they exited the house through the door leading to the garden.
“When the four of you appear unannounced on my aunt’s doorstep, I assuredly cannot ignore the implications,” Freya responded.
Instead of on the bench, which needed a good cleaning, they sat in the two chairs Freya and her aunt had used when peeling apples for a pie yesterday afternoon.
“I know you are curious so I shan’t deny you,” Lady Annalise began.
“Permit me first to issue a warning. Lord Graham followed the trail of the person who shot at you, and those tracks led to the rear of the Rayland manor house.”
Freya expelled the breath she did not realize she held. “Not that I doubt Lord Graham, but I admit to hoping otherwise.”
“As did we all,” Her Ladyship assured. “Duncan and Thompson, along with Graham, called upon Lord Rayland to learn if he was aware of what was going on. Of course, His Lordship denied the possibility of someone in his house shooting at his own stepson. Meanwhile, my dear Navan made a plaster type mold of the footprints which Graham had outlined with small rocks. They wished to prove what Lord Thompson suggested months ago. Thompson thought they had assumed Duncan’s shooter was taller and heavier than he actually was.
They were looking at him from a point below where he stood when he took the shot.
“The man who shot Lord Duncan nearly a year ago was also dressed similarly to the person who shot at you today. This person, whoever he is, has been in and out of our lives since that shooting outside of the Lyon’s Den last March.
Even as we speak, our husbands and Duncan have their heads together, attempting finally to know a resolution. ”
“I did not realize that attack on Lord Duncan was more than a disgruntled political foe,” Freya said in concern. “Are all of you in danger?”
“Not directly,” Lady Beaufort assured, “but in their roles in the Home Office, our husbands encounter enemies of all sorts,” Her Ladyship said softly.
“Yet, that is not all,” Lady Annalise warned.
“Since parting from you, Lords Duncan, Beaufort, Thompson, and Graham have learned that the Honorable Mr. Donegal MacAlasdair is also staying at Rayland’s manor. ”
“I have heard my uncle mention the man’s name, saying Mr. MacAlasdair is a religious scholar. How is his presence at Rayland’s home important?” Freya asked with a frown marking her forehead.
“Lady Rayland is Mr. MacAlasdair’s mistress, dating back to when she was married to Aaran’s father and even when she married Lord Roland, who died suspiciously some three years into their marriage.
Her Ladyship despises Duncan and Graham for displacing her son in the line of succession for the earldom, and she and Rayland have been married only a few short months, basically since the close of Parliament at the end of July.
We must ask ourselves why Lord Rayland would welcome MacAlasdair in his home when his wife’s affair has been common knowledge for more than twenty years?
Things are too twisted for Duncan and his sons not to worry for the outcome. ”
“Meaning Lord Graham intends to withdraw his attentions again in order to ‘save’ me from a terrible connection,” Freya summarized.
“Graham suggested you might direct your interest to his brother if you wish to thwart your father’s plans to marry you off to Sir Patrick,” Lady Annalise said diplomatically.
Yet, Freya was having none of it. She was on her feet immediately. “I have a good mind to have my uncle demand that Lord Graham marry me. Did the all-knowing earl also tell you that he kissed me?”
“He kissed you?” Lady Annalise squealed with apparent happiness. “I knew he was attracted to you!”