Chapter Six
Lelander had drunk down his dram of brandy rather fast the evening before.
It was uncomfortable to sit there in a room much quieted after the ladies had retired.
Smythesdon had made valiant efforts to lighten the heaviness, but he could not erase the enmity between the two northern neighbors trapped in a house together.
In any case, he had much more preferred to retire to his room and contemplate his conversations with Miss Poppy Granger.
As Meegan had undressed him, he’d heard all about the doings of the servants’ hall. Apparently, Burkhart’s valet, Smith, had referred to Lelander’s mode of dress as delicate and fussy.
Lelander had shrugged over it. Not everyone in the world wished to be a lumbering brute who thought a simple waterfall knot was the height of sophistication.
Also, it had seemed to him that the cuffs on Burkhart’s coat were a sixteenth of an inch too long.
Lelander was further cheered by Meegan’s description of the various glares he’d given Smith after the butler had told them they must cease trading insults.
None of it could bother him very much. He was much too buoyed by his growing acquaintance with Miss Poppy Granger.
She was so lovely and he’d very much enjoyed their conversation the evening before.
It made him smile to think of her lying around, reading and eating biscuits.
It had been his experience that ladies could present themselves as so regulated, as if they never took a breath and relaxed.
He was rather relieved to hear of the lady lounging with biscuits.
This morning, he’d laughed when he saw snow flurries out the window. Burkhart’s ride out with Miss Poppy’s sister was going to be on the brisk side, while he would be snug in the library.
He’d had a brief moment of concern that Burkhart might call off the ride on account of the weather, that he would be hanging about and annoying him, but Miss Pansy had claimed it would be invigorating. They were going, even though Lord Smythesdon seemed a rather reluctant escort.
He hoped Miss Pansy found it invigorating. But he also hoped Burkhart was frozen to the bone.
Now he was in the library while Miss Poppy showed him books. Her two older sisters were in a cozy corner with a pot of tea, acting as rather casual and inattentive chaperones.
She had just shown him the book she was currently reading.
Reluctantly shown him, after he’d pressed a bit.
It seemed rather gothic and had to do with a young lady named Annabelle trapped in a damp castle by a cruel uncle who wished to marry her off to one of his cronies.
If that were not bad enough, the castle was haunted by the uncle’s dead wife.
That lady had allegedly fallen to her death from a rampart, a fact the local village looked upon with deep suspicion.
All hope for Annabele’s rescue was riding on the shoulders of a local baron.
He was said to be very dashing and everybody had great faith in him.
Miss Poppy was certain he would come through for the lady.
“I am sure you think it silly,” Miss Poppy said. “But I do like this sort of story. The end is always so cheering.”
“Why should I find it silly? I am very concerned about Annabelle’s future.”
“You are very kind to pretend it.”
“All right. It is true I’ve never read anything like what is just now happening to poor Annabelle.
However, I would certainly be game to try it out.
If I do not care for it, what matter? I am a great admirer of The Royal Society’s papers and I imagine you would not be quite so enthused to read about the circulatory systems in slow moving animals or other riveting examinations they have conducted. ”
“My father receives those papers, and I have looked from time to time, but no I did not find them riveting. My sister and I used to go through them for frightening pictures.”
“You would not have been disappointed in that quest, I think.”
“I seem to remember us being determined to give each other nightmares.”
“It is the wonderful thing about reading material, is it not? There is something for everyone. Even two twins looking to scare themselves are not to be disappointed.”
Miss Poppy laughed. “Now, you may have noticed that I pulled my book from this area. My father arranges his library in a unique fashion. This area is for books that have been acquired and passed down from Daisy and Lily. The viscount calls them the flights of fancy books. Then this area is mostly books that Violet has acquired and studied, as she is a great intellectual. These couple of shelves, which are mostly empty now, were books about horses. Marigold took them to Pendleton Park. The rest is older books, collections of periodicals, and things of general interest.”
“That makes a deal of sense, actually. We have a librarian at home, and he’s got it all arranged by author and then manages a complicated cross-reference card system so he can locate what’s wanted by subject.
My father thinks he’s made it complicated so that we can never do without him.
But then, he also says it’s too late now.
Mr. Krandower has taken charge of Pepperdon Hall’s library and that is that. ”
“What does your library look like, if I may ask about it?” she asked.
He found he had a great urge to make his estate sound very attractive.
He meant to put it in its best light. “It is my father’s favorite room, as it is actually two stories with a set of circular stairs between stories.
It has no end of cozy corners one might use to hide away from the world, and then the south side is lined with large windows that overlook a pond that is home to a bevy of swans. ”
“Gracious, swans. Do they not chase you about if you get too close?”
“Only in spring and summer. In general, they tolerate us, as we do feed them. My father always says they allow us to live there. We like them, despite their tempers, as they make the pond very picturesque.”
“It sounds positively lovely. And then, I suppose it is warm? With all those windows.”
Lelander laughed. “A bit warmer than Chemsworth, let us say.”
Jimmy and Johnny came into the library, carrying a large wood box between them. They set it on the long table, which had been cleared of papers to make room for the giant puzzle Lady Knightswood had made for her house party.
“Shall we unpack the pieces, Miss?” Jimmy said.
“Oh I imagine we can do it, thank you, Jimmy.”
They began to pull out the puzzle pieces and then spent a good amount of time sorting and then putting together the edges, which they both agreed was the only sensible way to begin.
Once that was accomplished, they moved round the table, looking for pieces that might fit together.
As they talked of shading and shapes and moved pieces to one side that were clearly the sky and would be the most challenging, their hands accidentally touched twice.
Or maybe it was not accidentally the second time. It was delightful.
Out of doors, the snow had begun to pick up. The flakes were small, which Lelander took as a sign that it would continue to snow for some hours. At least, that was the case in Lancashire. He always thought of big, fat flakes as playful and small flakes as meaning business.
He did not know how Burkhart was making out on a horse, but he, himself, was making out perfectly. He was in a lovely room with a lovely lady as the snow came down out of doors.
The fire roared in the hearth. Despite the fire’s valiant efforts, the room was rather cool, as all of Chemsworth Hall’s rooms were.
To counteract it, Miss Poppy wore a pretty plaid wool shawl that she occasionally wrapped tight around her.
Her manner of doing it with a little shiver was very charming.
By the time they’d completed about half of the puzzle, that half being the easy parts, a tea tray arrived. They kept a French cook so the tea tray was more elaborate than what he would typically see at home and included little savarin cakes which must take some skill to make.
Over tea, they discussed their original plan of going out to the garden. The ground was snow-covered now and he was not certain the lady would prefer it.
She was determined on it and claimed she was much warmed by the tea and ready to face any sort of weather. Miss Poppy had finished her cup and run off. She returned wearing sturdy boots, a lovely red velvet cape, and a matching velvet-covered bonnet with a jaunty decoration of holly berries.
For himself, he claimed he needed no overcoat. He did not know if that was strictly true. Perhaps it was just a shallow attempt to impress a lady. Nevertheless, it had come straight out of his mouth before he could think it through, so overcoat-less he would go.
They set out to the garden through the library’s doors as Lady Smythesdon smiled into her book and Lady Hemmings made some sort of snort. He supposed they were amused that two people should put themselves into the weather when it was not strictly necessary.
The garden had been transformed by falling snow.
The late blooms still looked well, all bright colors against white snow, but drooping under the weight of it on the open petals.
They would brown and be defeated by the morrow and the rose bushes would go dormant for the season.
The fountain still gurgled away, and the pool of water had not frozen over yet.
Though, there were thin sheets of ice floating on the surface, the sort one might break apart with just the light touch of a finger.
The wind was brisk and made the snow seem even more significant than it was as it blew the flakes this way and that.
Though the wind was blowing, there was a hush over the landscape.
The birds and small creatures that might be out and about on their daily business were snug in their nests.
He always thought snow made everything softer.
“It is glorious!” Miss Poppy said.