Chapter One #2
Poppy and Pansy Granger had spent the years after Lily had wed slowly maturing by degrees.
It was Miss Millthorpe’s opinion that they’d certainly taken their time with it, which never failed to amuse them.
They still had the vinaigrettes shaped as mermaids that Marigold had brought back from Sussex, but they did not wave them around empty for dramatic effect anymore.
They still visited their Inviolate Kingdom just off the nursery fairly regularly, but the dreams they spoke of there were very much changed.
Their tastes had diverged too. Poppy was of a more gentle mien and preferred soft colors.
She happily read all the novels full of romance that Lily and Daisy had left behind.
There was nothing she liked more than a rainy day in front of the fire with a book, a plate of biscuits, and a pot of tea.
She’d had her room painted a soft yellow and her bed was piled high in quilts.
She liked her comfort and she often daydreamed of the heroes she read about.
Pansy was more energetic and could not get through a page of a book before she was thinking about her horse or walking somewhere.
The walls of her room were the same white color they’d been when she’d taken it.
While she would keep Poppy company when it rained buckets, she often paced around the drawing room if it went on too long.
Perhaps their biggest difference was in dress. Poppy looked for softness and warmth. Pansy adored silk and deep colors, as she said, “An aubergine silk has something definite to say.”
They were not forced to take lessons any longer, and in that their opinions were firmly aligned. They were delighted. Miss Millthorpe now spent her time teaching Teddy, while they made social calls to her cottage to see their old and still scolding friend.
As a usual thing, the most exciting event to happen to Poppy and Pansy was a trip to the village shops or a visit to Pendleton Park.
Just now, though, they had received a momentous letter from their brother-in-law, Lord Smythesdon.
He often wrote to them, usually about facts he was reading about.
Why he thought it was interesting to know the habits of the pharaohs or what the Romans ate, they had no idea.
Nevertheless, they liked receiving letters, so they put up with it and always wrote him back regarding the doings of the house.
This missive that had just arrived, however, contained no boring facts about the pharaohs or the Romans. This letter was positively thrilling. They’d run down to the cottage to show their old governess.
As he always did, Lord Smythesdon addressed them by the nicknames he’d given them long ago, just after he’d married Violet.
Pots and Pans—
You’ll never guess. I, Violet, Daisy, and Hemmings are coming to Chemsworth to entertain you.
I imagine you can use the company and we will have a jolly time.
By the by, we’ve also invited some friends.
Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander are expected to arrive next month on the fifteenth.
Coincidentally, they are both from Yorkshire, living nearby one another. Small world!
Until then,
Your favorite brother-in-law
“Sit down and compose yourselves and stop waving that paper in my face,” Miss Millthorpe said.
Pansy snorted and Poppy laid the letter down.
Miss Millthorpe slowly and deliberately poured the tea.
After handing them their cups and saucers, she slowly and deliberately removed her spectacles from their case and perched them on her nose.
She said, “Now I will proceed to read this piece of correspondence that has seemed to affect you in some manner.”
The lady read through the letter, rather slowly, Pansy thought. She tried not to laugh when Poppy sighed over it.
Miss Millthorpe laid the letter down. “I see,” she said.
“Do you, though?” Poppy asked.
“The two gentlemen?” Pansy asked.
“And?” Miss Millthorpe said, sipping her tea.
“She’s being cagey,” Pansy said to Poppy.
“So cagey,” Poppy said.
“I will infer from your comments that you assume that these two gentlemen are being brought here for your inspection,” Miss Millthorpe said. “What have I spent years teaching you about assuming things?”
“Only very dull people assume things when they do not know the facts,” Pansy and Poppy said together.
Miss Millthorpe had been repeating that phrase over and over for years, mostly to contain their wilder speculations. Pansy did not think they had wild speculations at this moment. She said, “We do have some facts at hand, though.”
Poppy nodded. “Facts all day long. Which facts were you thinking of, Pans?”
“Fact one,” Pansy said, “Lord Smythesdon is invited here and weds Violet. Fact two, Mr. Hamilton is invited here and weds Rose.”
“Fact three,” Poppy said, “Lord Hemmings comes here and disguises himself as Mr. Wendall and then has to admit he’s a marquess and then weds Daisy.”
“Fact four, Lord Winkelman comes here and Mr. Weston weds Marigold because he loved her all along even though it was a secret.”
“And fact five, Lord Knightswood comes to Lily’s house party and they get married.”
“Facts as far as the eye can see,” Pansy said. She thought the logic had fallen apart a little when they got to Marigold, but on the whole, a lot of facts.
“Facts can often be predictive of the future,” Miss Millthorpe said. “But not always. My advice is to withhold judgment until you are in possession of more definitive facts regarding this particular situation.”
“But do you not think,” Pansy said, “that we ought to have new dresses made?”
Miss Millthorpe pondered the idea. “I would never stand against being prepared. You are done growing so there can be no harm in it. If new dresses are not necessary to meet this moment, they can be on hand to meet some future moment.”
Pansy and Poppy both clapped their hands.
“We will choose all sorts of elegant fabrics.”
“Pans and I have developed different tastes in our maturity so Mr. Clyde will have to show us piles of samples.”
Pansy nodded. “Pops likes velvets in soft colors, but I prefer silk now. I adore an aubergine silk. It says something.”
“I cannot imagine what,” Miss Millthorpe said, looking amused.
“The biggest difference is Pansy doesn’t mind being cold,” Poppy said. “I do.”
Miss Millthorpe nodded gravely, as there was no need to explain to her the always cool temperature of the house. She had long experience with it herself.
“Except remember, Pops, that one silk we fought over that time. You were willing to be cold for that one.”
Poppy nodded. “It was a pale yellow, perfectly divine. It was so strange. It was a color I favor but not a fabric I usually go for. It was a fabric Pansy favors but not usually a color she would go for.” She sighed.
“Nobody can ever have that one. It is banished as we will not allow fabric to come between us.”
“Even though we have developed our own styles, we will always be guided by what Mr. Brummel advised when he was here. We will eschew ruffles and anything fussy.”
“So gauche.”
“We have piles of sketches of what we want.”
“How many dresses were you planning on?” Miss Millthorpe asked.
“Several. You must come with us, Miss Millthorpe,” Pansy said. “Mama does not like to go to the shops.”
“Do say you will come.”
“Mr. Clyde always seems so jolly to see you,” Pansy pointed out. Mr. Clyde was the haberdasher and she and Poppy were convinced that he pined for Miss Millthorpe.
"If Mr. Clyde admires me in any way, it is for my good sense and my indefatigable efforts to instill the same into my charges.”
Pansy pressed her lips together so she would not laugh. She did not dare look at Poppy or all would be lost on that front.
“In any case,” Miss Millthorpe went on, ignoring their smirks, “I will attend you as a courtesy to the viscountess as you are correct, she does not enjoy the shops.”
Pansy leaned back on the sofa, which she knew very well Miss Millthorpe disapproved of. They would have new dresses, and two gentlemen were coming to the hall. She was certain she and Poppy would both fall in love. Their time was now.
“Well, I do hope,” Miss Millthorpe said, “that if your suppositions are correct, it does not lead to a rift between you.”
Pansy sat up. “A rift?” she asked. She and Poppy had the occasional disagreement, such as which of Mr. Moreau’s cakes were better.
Pansy favored the ginger cake and Poppy favored the miniature savarins he was known for.
They could not work out why their tongues did not like the same things.
Pansy was wild for India pickle, Poppy said it made her mouth pucker.
And then they’d even had that very long debate at the haberdasher’s over the yellow silk that they’d both adored.
That one went on so long that Mr. Clyde had even begun to look frightened over it.
They could not both have it, though, as they refused to dress alike.
They’d settled it by nobody having the silk, which Mr. Clyde had seemed sad about.
But a rift?
“Why should we have a rift?” Poppy asked.
“Affairs of the heart are far more serious than the things you usually argue over,” Miss Millthorpe said. “And far more unpredictable. Think that idea through, using your working minds.”
Miss Millthorpe was a great proponent of people using their working minds. She very often would not tell them an answer she had in her pocket, preferring that they come to on their own.
They did spend some time using their working minds to think about it. Pansy chewed on a biscuit and the only sound in the cottage’s sitting room was the soft ticking of the clock on the mantel and the soft clatter of a teacup on a saucer.
“Oh no,” Poppy whispered.
“What is it, Pops?”
“What if we both fall violently in love with the same gentleman?”
“That could not happen, could it?”
“I am not sure.”
“You do prefer tall and lanky looks and I prefer more muscular. Remember the tinker’s boy? He was all arms and legs, and you thought him terrific.”