Chapter Six #3
“Do not say so to Marigold, though. She positively adores him,” Pansy said. She waved and called, “Hello, Marigold!”
Her sister waved though Pansy could see perfectly well that her sister was incredulous to see them considering the current state of the weather.
Grooms had run out of the stables upon hearing there were people arriving and they dismounted and handed off their horses.
Marigold shouted, “I will meet you inside.”
The Weston’s butler had the front doors open and looked just as surprised as Marigold to see three people turning up. “Miss Granger,” he said.
The fellow knew perfectly well that she used Miss Pansy, but he could never bring himself to say it.
He was a stickler for rules and as far as he was concerned, Pansy had hit the bed first, so she was Miss Granger.
Marigold said there was no point in arguing with him as it positively pained him to do anything even remotely outside of the ordinary and expected.
Pansy ran into the house and handed over her snow-covered hat to one of the footmen. “Ah, glorious heat, I will warm up in no time.”
The butler snapped his finger at the other footman and said, “Full service in the drawing room.”
Pansy knew by now that full service meant not just tea, but coffee and hot chocolate, and fingers crossed some warm buns too.
They were led into the drawing room, a spacious sort of place with two fires going. As they waited on Marigold, Mr. Weston came in.
“Pansy,” he said, “Lord Smythesdon.”
“Mr. Weston, this is Lord Burkhart, he is staying at Chemsworth.”
“Ah, one of the fellows from the north come to visit. You are welcome to Pendleton Park, Lord Burkhart.”
“Very kind,” the lord said.
“I saw you three coming up the drive as I was watching out the window to make sure Marigold got back safely on The Turk. I was thinking it was no weather to be out in, but The Turk gets a bit…violent…if he’s kept in.
Or as my wife said, he will just break himself out.
I hadn’t expected to see anybody else out in this weather, but for my mad wife. ”
“It’s very pretty out there, though,” Pansy said, warming her hands by the fire. Her wool jacket was wet from the snow and the familiar smell of damp wool wafted up to her nose.
“It’s pretty to look at out a window, perhaps,” Mr. Weston said.
Before Pansy could once more put forward her supposed opinion that it was glorious weather, Marigold came in, shaking snow from her hair.
“What on earth are you three lunatics doing?” she said.
“Marigold, this is Lord Burkhart,” Pansy said, ignoring her sister’s salvo.
“Lord Burkhart,” Marigold said. “I suppose this is what people get up to in Yorkshire.”
“Not usually, no,” he said, laughing.
“Pansy thought it would be invigorating,” Lord Smythesdon said.
Before Marigold could question her about what was invigorating about it, which Pansy was very sure she would, the full service came in, courtesy of one butler and two footmen.
Marigold presided over the teapot while Mr. Weston managed the coffee and hot chocolate. Pansy was delighted to see the warm buns with herbed butter and helped herself.
Once everyone was settled with their preferred drink, Marigold said, “Were you planning to stay the night?”
“Goodness no,” Pansy said. “I would have sent over a note asking about it if we’d planned such a thing.”
Marigold’s eyes drifted to the windows. Those windows showed the snow coming down as hard as ever. “You might want to think about it, considering.”
Pansy did consider it. For a moment. “It cannot be done. If we do not return, Papa will fear we are somehow lost or injured and he and Henry will set out looking for us.”
“And Hemmings and Mr. Lelander will likely join in too,” Lord Smythesdon said. “We’ll have everybody wandering round in the snow to no purpose.”
“Well if you are set on going back,” Marigold said, “the time would be now. I told the grooms to leave your horses saddled.”
Pansy stared out the windows. Was it really getting so bad as that?
“This is veering close to hazardous conditions and the wind is not letting up,” Mr. Weston said. “I expect the drifts will begin to get uncomfortably deep.”
Pansy felt a sudden wave of guilt for pretending there was anything delightful in riding out in a storm.
She probably should not have insisted on it.
She rose, gulping her tea. “I’m afraid Marigold and Mr. Weston are right.
We cannot risk worrying Mama and Papa and the snow does seem to be coming down harder. ”
“Agreed,” Lord Burkhart said.
“A thousand times agreed,” Lord Smythesdon said with evident relief.
Pansy supposed poor old Smythesdon was wondering how he’d been roped into such a situation. She did not imagine it would cheer him to know that she was beginning to wonder why she’d ever thought it a clever idea.
She took a last bite of her warm bun, collected her hat, and braved the frigid temperature once more.
This had surely been the fastest visit to Pendleton Park that anybody had ever made. Now they must just brave the weather and get the horses and themselves back to Chemsworth Hall.