Chapter Ten #2
“I doubt he would say much about it. I imagine what he would think is royal blood is like chess pieces and have ever moved across the board in unpredictable patterns.”
“It is all so ridiculous.”
“Very ridiculous,” Mrs. Dallway said. “But a thing being very ridiculous will hardly hold a man back from anything. My dear departed husband was convinced one of our neighbors was forever knocking down our fences on the western side of the estate. He claimed it was for spite, though he could not clearly articulate where the spite was stemming from. I could never convince him of any other possible cause, such as the ground there being swampy which I remain sure was and remains the real cause.”
“I do so wish Lord Burkhart and Mr. Lelander would find a way to get on with one another.”
Mrs. Dallway glanced round the room and her eyes settled on Poppy. “Mr. Lelander seems rather keen on Poppy.”
“Indeed he does.”
“And Lord Burkhart seems rather keen on you.”
“Does he?”
“Rather.”
Of course, Pansy did think so but it was heartening to hear an outsider’s view on it.
“Time will likely sort the whole thing out satisfactorily. It usually does. Look at my dear departed husband—he does not give a toss about the western fence anymore.”
“Because he is departed,” Pansy said laughing.
Mrs. Dallway nodded. “How time sorts things out is always unique to the situation. In my husband’s case, leaving the world was deemed the only solution.”
They moved on to speak of other things. In particular, Mrs. Dallway inquired into what anybody really knew about Lord Montachet.
She claimed she had no reason not to like him, but she did not like him.
Perhaps she would like him upon better acquaintance, but there was something about him that struck her as not quite the thing.
“He reminds me of Lord Rufflington. Nobody likes him and nobody can say why. Lady Arlington once said to me, “It’s as if Rufflington has a secret nobody wishes to know.”
Pansy could not dispute that fact. When she had first met him, that baron had seemed rather debonair and devil-may-care.
Somehow, though, he seemed less so now. Perhaps it was due to how much wine he’d taken at dinner.
It had seemed excessive. She was certain Smuckers would have thoughts about that as she’d seen their butler frowning at Lord Montachet several times.
And then there had been that peeking round the doorframe as she and Poppy had led Miss Millthorpe above stairs.
Or that he’d disappeared for the rest of the day.
It was like he had a secret they’d all rather not know.
She did not think upon it further, as the gentlemen had come in from their port.
There was no time to consider the baron when Lord Burkhart was in the room.
Pansy softly played the pianoforte in the drawing room as Lord Burkhart hurried over to turn the pages.
He was really very good at it. He paid close attention to where she was with the notes and turned pages perfectly.
Naturally, turning pages meant he must stand close by her.
Even brush her shoulder by mistake on occasion. It was thrilling.
What a day and what a night. She was so admiring of Lord Burkhart’s coolness in handling the situation in Miss Millthorpe’s cottage.
He was so manly, righting all the lady’s chairs and putting her parlor back in order.
This was two times now that he’d been faced with a frightening situation and he was all cool head and bravery.
She would feel very safe under his care no matter what frightening thing happened.
He was a tall and muscular man and, in the sleigh, their knees had come close to touching. Now her shoulder was occasionally brushed.
She supposed it would be wrong to throw her music over her shoulder and jump into his arms. She bit her lip to stop from laughing over how Miss Millthorpe would view such a thing.
Or how she would view one of her charges even thinking such a thing.
Nevertheless, Lord Burkhart made her think of such things.
They’d had so many conversations today over tea. He’d begun to speak of his estate and Pansy had the idea that he was describing it in the best light possible to impress her.
It was an old house, though not as old as Chemsworth.
It had been rebuilt in Elizabethan times.
Pansy had for a moment feared he was set to launch into how the original house had been destroyed by the Lancastrians in the Roses War, which it probably had, but he did not mention what had happened to it.
One of the things that sounded most charming about it was all the additions. As time had gone by, more and more had been added. This had resulted in various mysterious corridors that would turn a person around if they did not understand the layout.
The house had eventually developed into a cross shape, with east, west, north, and south wings.
He had the south wing and it overlooked the gardens.
The only person who ever made free to barge into it was his grandmother.
The dowager considered every inch of Westport House her own and would only be stopped by a locked door.
If she was feeling particularly intransient, even a lock was not much good as she would just knock until somebody let her in.
For all that, she was an affectionate lady.
He went on to speak of the earl and countess, who sounded delightful, as well as his dog.
It was the most ridiculous, lumbering Great Dane named Enigma.
They had named him as a joke, as his every feeling was written all over his face.
Food? Delighted to make it disappear. Chasing birds?
Thrilled to pointlessly chase them. Made to get off the sofa he was just now sprawled on? Devastated, accompanied by a sad groan.
Enigma had the run of the place just as freely as his grandmother.
In fact, the dowager often used the dog’s back as a sort of cane to keep her upright, which he was very cooperative about.
Lord Burkhart supposed he would be, as his grandmother always had a pocketful of biscuits and bits of roll she would dole out.
He spoke to her of moors and mountains and all sorts of things she’d never in her life seen. It all was so real, as if she were there. Pansy was hopeful he was laying it all out in case she wished to live there. She was beginning to think she very much would.
She could not have imagined meeting such a gentleman.
Of course, she and Poppy had indulged in endless speculations, but she’d not had much to go on in trying to paint a picture.
Mostly she had her brothers-in-law to look to, but none of them were a model for quite the sort of gentleman she wished for. Lord Burkhart was, though.
Mr. Lelander approached the pianoforte and said, “Burkhart, I would show you the Patinir.”
Pansy glanced up. What an odd thing to say. For one, nothing these two gentlemen ever said to each other was anything but an insult and she could not find the insult in it. For another, the Patinir was hanging on the wall for anybody to see and hardly needed to be pointed out.
Regardless, Lord Burkhart seemed suddenly interested in the Patinir.
“Will you be all right if I step away for a moment, Miss Pansy?” he asked.
“Yes, of course, I play without a page turner all the time,” she asked.
Was there some sort of thawing between the two gentlemen? If it were so, it was surprising but would be most welcome. Despite she and her sisters putting much thought into it, they had not come up with anything that could accomplish it.
As he wandered off with Mr. Lelander, Pansy softly played the keys.
She knew the piece well and could play it with her eyes closed so she’d had no need of a page turner to begin with.
She’d not seen fit to tell Lord Burkhart that piece of information, though.
It was too lovely to have him standing by her and occasionally brushing her shoulder.
She watched them pause in front of the Patinir, both staring at it. They were talking in low tones too.
Certainly, that was a very good sign. Could it be that each gentleman had seen the other’s interest in a twin sister?
Had they come to realize their enmity was untenable if things were to go forward?
Or perhaps Daisy’s idea had been right and their spending time together had begun to wear down their enmity.
She noted that Lord Burkhart nodded at something Mr. Lelander said, and then they parted ways. Lord Burkhart returned to her side. He looked a bit confused when he looked at the music, as Pansy had not turned the pages at all. He did not ask the cause, though, and she did not say.
Pansy thought he knew perfectly well that she did not need to read the music but had just pretended at it to allow him to have a reason to stand next to her. She did not mind at all that he knew it. She wished to be encouraging. She wished for him to be encouraged.
“Did you have a pleasant time admiring the Patinir?” she asked. She wished to have some clue as to how relations with Mr. Lelander might be changing, though she did not wish to ask outright.
“It is a very fine piece.” He paused, and then as if to account for their recent interlude, he said, “Lelander was just suggesting it is similar to one of my father’s collection.”
“Oh, I see! I had not imagined Mr. Lelander had been a visitor to your house.”
This seemed to cause the lord some consternation. “Ah, as to that, a very long time ago. Briefly. I quite forget the cause.”
“You do not suppose he will ever be in your house again?” Pansy asked.