Chapter Four #2
Pansy tapped her fingers on the windowsill.
The only thing Poppy could think of that had to do with red and white roses was the Roses War, which was ancient history.
She vaguely remembered Miss Millthorpe going on about it, though she could not say she’d paid close attention.
She’d been far too interested in what would come next in their lessons.
Back then, Violet and Rose had made hints about the horrors of Henry VIII but would not reveal what it was about.
All they would say was, “Ask Miss Millthorpe for a detailed history of his queens.” Then her two sisters had shivered and laughed.
All the talk Miss Millthorpe had showered over them about Tudor and York had been wasted as she and Pansy were preparing their questions about Henry VIII’s queens.
They did eventually wheedle all the facts from their governess, and it was indeed as horrible as Violet and Rose had suggested.
They had cried for Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard and cheered for Catherine Parr.
That lady must have been so happy when somebody finally came to find her and said, “By the by, the terrible person you married is dead.” They speculated that she would have cried about it for show but have been secretly gleeful.
At least, that’s what they would have done.
Certainly, Violet was not just now hinting at what had come before the reign of awful Henry VIII—the Roses War.
“Do you not recall learning about the Roses War?” Violet asked. “These two gentlemen dislike one another. Lord Burkhart is a Yorkshireman and Mr. Lelander is from Lancashire. Lancashire held the red rose. Mr. Lelander complimented Mama on her red roses.”
“But surely it cannot be…” Daisy said.
“It all adds up,” Violet said. “We’ve brought two lunatics to Chemsworth who are determined to prosecute a war that ended hundreds of years ago.”
“They are handsome lunatics, though,” Poppy said. “Especially Mr. Lelander.”
“Especially Lord Burkhart, to my mind,” Pansy said.
“Look at that, Violet,” Daisy said, “they prefer different gentlemen. That is one problem got over.”
“But a problem we had not foreseen has presented itself. We thought, they live so close to one another, how genial. However, if they are enemies, does the proximity really matter?”
“Oh dear,” Daisy said, “I had been imagining that their families were often together. They might have dinners and shoots and such.”
“I cannot think it,” Violet said. “After all, where did these two gentlemen get their opinions? From their fathers, no doubt.”
“Pops,” Pansy said, “how would it be if we lived so close, but our people never came together? It would be like Chemsworth Hall and Holby House.”
They all reflected on the decades of enmity between the viscountess and Mrs. Ravencraft. It was not the sort of thing that would ever be patched up.
“We’d have to meet in secret,” Poppy said. “There is probably a lonely wood somewhere and we could meet there.”
Pansy considered it. “We’d have to see each other often or how could we bear it? And then, what about those times when it is impossible? What if you had a baby? I would not even be able to see the baby!”
“And we could never talk about one another’s news at home. What if you tell me something exciting? I could never breathe a word of it.”
“We would have to be loyal to our houses, which would make us disloyal to each other.”
“Perhaps this was not a very good idea,” Violet said. “We were so hopeful about it, but it seems as if we will need to think of something else. Do not worry, girls, we will dig up some wonderful husbands for you. I’m sure of it.”
Poppy did not find herself so amenable to giving up just yet. “We must not be defeatist, though. Just because two families have been enemies since, since—”
“It is hard to put a firm date on it, the situation was a slow roller, gaining momentum,” Violet said, “but let us pin it on Richard, Duke of York, making claim to the throne in the fourteen hundreds.”
“Well that is just ridiculous,” Pansy said. “We must tell them to give it up at once.”
Daisy’s laughter filled the room. “Dear Pansy, it is never a winning strategy to tell a gentleman who is being ridiculous that he is being ridiculous. Do you imagine that I told my dear Hemmings that his crushing ennui over being a marquess who had been given everything was ridiculous?”
Poppy considered this. “Lord Hemmings is ever so much cheerful these days. How did you get him out of his ennui?”
“I see to it that he occasionally lives as if he does not have everything handed to him. There is a small, abandoned cottage on the property and he lives there for a time and chops his own wood, cooks his own food, and survives as well as he can. Then, he returns to me cold and hungry and delighted with what he has.”
“We can hardly send Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander to chop wood,” Pansy said. “Can we?”
“No, that cure is very particular to Lord Hemmings,” Violet said. “We will have to think of something particular to cure Mr. Lelander and Lord Burkhart of the Roses War.”
“Perhaps Lord Burkhart will be more amenable now that he’s been knocked on the head with a cowbell,” Daisy said, giggling.
“Bertie has already heard all about it from Mama,” Violet said. “Apparently, Teddy ran to her and laid out the facts of the case like a barrister in the Old Bailey. The facts all pointed in the same direction—it was all Bertie’s fault.”
Poppy snorted. “Teddy comes out in the clear. Maribelle thinks he never does wrong so she will staunchly stand in the It-Was-Bertie’s-Fault camp.
“I counseled Bertie that if he is to lead Teddy, he must act as a good leader and stand by his word. If he promised to share turns, which was at the bottom of the whole thing, then Bertie must see that it is done. Well, they may have shaken up the adults in the house, but they are out together now, visiting the stables like nothing ever happened.”
“Come now,” Daisy said, “let us put our heads together, and particularly Violet’s head as she is the intellectual, and come up with a plan to end the Roses War that has unexpectantly resurfaced and arrived to our house.”
Poppy had not the first idea of what they were to do, but she was to dine with two single gentlemen as a full-grown lady this evening.
The last time they’d had single gentlemen at table was during Lily’s house party.
She and Pansy had been in what Miss Millthorpe called the “neither here nor there” moment of their lives.
They had wished to be grown, but still enjoyed acting childish when it suited.
Their antics with their vinaigrettes and pretending at a faint and waving them under each other’s noses though there was nothing in them but a dry sponge had been quite ridiculous. Fun, nevertheless.
At those dinners years ago, they had just been spectators. Tonight, they would be proper ladies at the table. Roses War or not, it was very exciting. Her thoughts turned to her dresses, as Violet was bound to think of something to bring an end to the enmity between Mr. Lelander and Lord Burkhart.
Lelander had gone down to the drawing room at the sound of the second gong, as directed.
He was introduced to the viscount and Mr. Granger, who had not been there to meet their carriages when they had arrived.
Their absence was probably preferable, considering the spectacle he and Burkhart had made of it.
Of course, the viscount was beginning to strike him as a bit eccentric so perhaps that gentleman would not have minded two carriages racing up his drive. He had twice now called Lancashire a foreign county, as if Lelander had just arrived from the Far East.
Lelander studiously ignored Burkhart across the room. The fellow was talking to both Miss Grangers, which was very irritating. The viscount rejoined his wife, murmuring, “Lancashire, who knows what goes on there.”
Just then, a young lad approached him. “Sir,” he said quietly.
Lelander looked down at the boy, recognizing him from the balcony and the falling cowbell.
“I’m Teddy. Very sorry you had to see that cowbell fall on your friend’s head. It was Bertie’s fault. He’s older and ought to have known better.”
Lelander pressed his lips together to stop from laughing over this shifting of blame. “Tell Bertie I said it was well done. Next time, he ought to think about a bigger bell.”
Teddy seemed to consider this approbation, which he clearly had not been expecting.
With a heavy sigh, he said, “Very well, as I am pressed, I will admit my part in it. I did struggle to get the bell away from him. And then it fell out of my hands.” After a long pause, he said quietly, “So I guess it was very well done of me too. When I really think about it, Bertie probably had little to do with it.”
Lelander nodded gravely. The little traitor was all too ready to throw the blame on his co-conspirator Bertie, until it seemed there was approbation to be had, rather than blame. Then he pushed Bertie right off the stage and magically became the principal player and author of it all.
He recalled executing certain maneuvers himself at that age.
He remembered feeling very clever at whatever he was trying to accomplish, though in retrospect his various ruses had probably been obvious to the adults around him at the time.
In particular, he was sure his first tutor was never fooled by all the reading that had not got done when it was supposed to for various preposterous reasons.
He remembered once saying an ember from the fire had leapt out of the hearth and burned his eyes, preventing him from reading.
Miss Poppy Granger approached and said, “I hope you have found everything you require, Mr. Lelander.”
“Indeed. My room is very well arranged. May I ask, you and your sister were introduced by your given names. Is that how you prefer to be addressed?”