9 Settling In
Mr Garth arrived later that day in a cloud of righteous indignation against his escaped daughter.
There was a distinct possibility that he would have swept Violetta into the carriage and driven off with her on the spot had anyone been able to find her.
The duchess turned her gentle charm on him, however, and a sudden shower of rain, combined with the fatigue of so much rage-fuelled travel, were enough to persuade him to stay at least for one night.
Cora missed all of this, having spent most of the day at the hut receiving the endless stream of goods Charlotte deemed necessary, and then quietly removing some and rearranging the rest after Charlotte had left.
She returned only in time to dress for dinner, having walked back at a leisurely pace with Cal, stopping once to watch the slow progress of a snail across the path and again for a fleeting glimpse of two deer, soon startled away.
She was not to be permitted to reminisce pleasurably on these events, however, for Souter, her maid, was full of the Garths.
“He says Miss Garth is not to go up to London for her come out after all, madam. What do you think of that?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on, “Miss Garth pretends she don’t care a fig for London, but her maid says she’s quite broke her heart over it.
I’ve laid out the blue for tonight, madam, if that’s to your liking. ”
“Yes, yes, whatever you think.”
“The paste necklace or the sapphire pendant?”
“You decide, Souter.”
“Very good, madam. I think the pendant, with your diamond ear drops, and the Honiton lace cap. I can thread a blue ribbon through it. That will become you very well. Stand a little straighter, madam, if you will. There! That’s better.”
For a few moments, while the maid tugged and adjusted and buttoned and straightened, nothing more was said, and Cora’s thoughts were able to drift back to Cal. However, the respite did not last long.
“There was a bit of a to-do in the library, madam, according to Mr Froggett. His grace was yelling at Mr Garth and he was yelling back. Something about arson — that’s fire-setting, Mr Froggett says.
Sit still, if you please, madam. I can’t get these pins in your hair otherwise.
Oh, and Mr Froggett says that his grace will take Miss Garth up to London so she can be brought out under her grace’s wing.
Isn’t that generous of him? But dinner’s likely to be a bit uncomfortable this evening, madam.
You might want to take your workbag, to have your embroidery ready. ”
“I am not in the mood for embroidery,” Cora said, wishing that Souter would just be silent so that she could remember everything Cal had said on the walk home.
“Really, madam? But you always do your embroidery when you’re feeling put upon, and when you were so worried about Miss Charlotte—”
“I am not feeling at all put upon,” she said calmly. “I am quite at ease tonight.”
“Oh? Well, you can always send word to me if you need it, and I’ll—”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Souter.”
She sprang up from the chair, and made hurriedly for the door. She needed to be downstairs now, at once, immediately! Cal might be there already, and she could not bear to miss a single moment of his company.
If only they could be together all the time, sharing a room and going down for dinner side by side. But that could only be if they were married, so that would never happen. She could not stop yearning for it, all the same.
Yearning… this strange feeling that she had never experienced before Cal.
None of her suitors, and she had enjoyed the attentions of several eligible men, had inspired such longings, not even Roland.
In each case, she had assessed their suitability by the width of her mother’s smile when his name was mentioned.
Roland had evoked the widest smile, there was nothing about him to repel her and so she had gently encouraged him and accepted him calmly when he offered for her.
But there had been no yearning. Only with Cal did she feel this almost unbearable need to be with him… to touch him… to kiss him…
She shivered, remembering. One day soon she would kiss him again, but only at the right time, and in the right place. But soon, very soon…
Cal was indeed already in the White Drawing Room, gathered into a masculine huddle around Mr Garth. He saw Cora enter the room, and gave her a rueful little smile, as if he had rather be talking to her. She hoped that was what it meant, anyway.
Violetta was sitting on a sofa with Charlotte and Augusta either side of her. The poor child looked thoroughly miserable between her stern-faced gaolers. Maria, the most tender-hearted of the sisters, sat nearby, her face anxious.
Violetta’s face lightened when she saw Cora. “Mrs Merrington! Do come and cheer me up, for it seems I am quite in disgrace and am not to be permitted to go to town this spring after all.”
“Yes, do sit here, Mama,” Charlotte said, jumping to her feet. “Perhaps you will have more success than I in explaining her sins to Miss Garth, and I need to talk to Froggett.”
As she settled on the sofa next to Violetta, Cora leaned towards her and whispered, “I am sure your sins are not so very great, Miss Garth.”
Violetta giggled, hand to mouth. “I do not think so, but Papa is very cross with me.”
“For rescuing Mr Garford’s book?”
“No, for running away without telling him, which is silly because if I had told him, he would undoubtedly have locked me into the attic with the spiders again. Probably he would have burned Cal’s book, too, so of course I could not tell him. You understand that, I am sure.”
“Indeed I do. Does he often lock you into spider infested attics?” Cora said casually. “It sounds horrid.”
“The wine cellar is worse,” she said, laughing.
“That has spiders and is dark, too. I never dared to move in case I bumped into the stacks of bottles and broke something. I had a chair, so I sat very still until someone came to let me out. At least the attic has a window, and interesting boxes to look into. It is amazing what one may find in an attic. I rather enjoy being shut in there.”
“You poor child!” Cora said, shuddering. “How could your father be so cruel?”
“Oh pooh, it is not so bad. At least he never beats me, like he does Edward when he gets up to mischief. But then he laughs about Edward’s misbehaviour afterwards, and says that he expects a boy to be a trifle wild, and takes him out to practise shooting with his Mantons, which almost seems like a reward, somehow, because there is nothing Edward likes better. Do you know what Mantons are?”
“Some sort of guns?” Cora said faintly, struggling to keep up.
“Duelling pistols. Papa’s pride and joy, although he would never be brave enough to challenge anyone to a duel. He loves them passionately, far more than he loves any of us. Oh good, here is Froggett to announce dinner. I could eat a whole sheep.”
“That is not a very ladylike remark,” Cora said gently.
“True. Let me try again,” she said, adopting a high voice. “Oh la! I believe I could eat a morsel of something… half a quail’s egg, perhaps.”
“Better,” Cora said, “but a lady should not talk about her appetite at all.”
“Oh, but how dull!” Violetta cried. “Why, Mr Godley, are you come to escort me into dinner? How very kind.”
She went off cheerfully on the chaplain’s arm, leaving Cora’s head whirling with so many revelations.
Mr Garth sounded like an unpleasant man, yet Violetta seemed to bear no resentment against her punishments.
Spider-infested attics! She did not mind snails, or beetles that trundled here and there, or squirrels — charming little creatures.
But spiders! She shuddered, and followed the company into dinner.
There was very little satisfaction to be had from the meal, for Cora was almost as far as it was possible to be from Cal, and no one else interested her at that moment.
With Mr Pyott on one side of her, and Maria on the other, there was little enough conversation of any sort to be had, and what there was restricted itself to remarks about the food.
Cora was glad to retreat with the other ladies, and leave the men to their port and whatever it was that men discussed when women were not present.
What did they discuss? Whenever she had asked, Roland had simply said, “Oh, political matters… things of that nature.” She had never cared deeply enough to probe further.
But now, with Cal one of those taking his port with the duke, she wondered once more.
Was it truly to do with politics, which would be of little interest to Cal?
Or was that merely a way of hiding the real subjects under discussion — women, or horses, or money, perhaps?
She could not guess. She sat, lost in thought, waiting for Cal to reappear and perhaps sit beside her.
“Are you quite well, Mama?”
It was Charlotte, of course, but she had Augusta, Maria and Sophia clustered about her, their faces anxious.
“I am perfectly well, Charlotte.”
“You hardly ate a thing at dinner, not even the Rhenish creams.”
“I did not notice the Rhenish creams.”
“That is precisely my point — you did not notice!” Charlotte cried. “What is the matter with you, Mama? You are not at all yourself.”
Cora gazed at her thoughtfully. “What precisely is myself, do you suppose? Is it an immutable facet of my character to like Rhenish creams? Might I not change my tastes, so that I prefer… oh, orange jelly, or gooseberry fool instead of Rhenish creams? Why must I be the same forever?”
Charlotte’s face darkened. “This is precisely what I mean, Mama — you are not yourself, and you are making no sense at all. You hate gooseberries, you know you do!”
“But not necessarily forever, Charlotte, and that is my point.”
“Do you like gooseberries all of a sudden?”
“What does that have to say to anything?” Cora said, bewildered.
“Oh, Mama!” Charlotte said, and her sisters twittered unhappily.