Although a torpor hung about the usually airy library, Isabel didn’t find it particularly oppressive. Neither did Eva, given the quickCan you believe these English?glance she shot Isabel. When Lady Exeter excused herself for a “bracing lie down” before afternoon tea, Eva shot Isabel another such glance, and Isabel had to hide a smile as she continued mending the Duchess’s cloak.
Miss Bretagne dragged herself to the piano and lifted the fallboard, exposing black and white keys. “Mina, come and compose a song with me. This Bach concerto is in dire need of lyrics.”
Miss Radclyffe checked her pocket watch. “I shall be reading for the next seventeen minutes.”
Miss Bretagne gave a little pout, but said no more as she began picking at piano keys.
“Are preparations proceeding for your citrus breakfast, Duchess?” asked Lady Bertrand.
“Citrus breakfast?” Eva’s needle suspended mid-air. “You have citrus groves on the estate?”
“We have a conservatory, Mrs. Gardiner,” explained the Duchess.
“And it’s bursting at the seams with every manner of citrus fruit you can imagine,” Lady Bertrand cut in.
“And you have a day for it?”
“Well,” continued the Duchess, “it’s a rather impromptu thing. In a few days’ time, the village will put on their summer musicale, which shall be—”
“Dreadful,” Lady Bertrand interjected.
“Delightful,” corrected the Duchess. “I am quite looking forward to being treated to the local talent. I’ve always enjoyed that sort of thing. In return, we are inviting the village round for a breakfast the following day to partake in all the oranges, lemons, and limes we can’t possibly consume ourselves alone. Citrus is the best fruit for summer.”
“Oh, Lucretia, I still don’t understand why you’re offering this to the public. How can you tolerate such people in your home?” Byyou, it was clear Lady Bertrand meantI.“We would never have such a gathering at Little Spruisty Folly. Bertie wouldn’t hear of it.”
As if Lady Bertrand hadn’t spoken, the Duchess continued, “Then I thought, well, since we’re having the village here for the day, why not set up a tent and extend the gathering into the evening for a country dance? Which, I must confess, is quite selfish of me. I do delight in lively fiddles and country reels. Mrs. Gardiner, you must consider shedding your widow’s weeds for the occasion.”
Miss Bretagne’s fingers struck a discordant key on the piano. “A dance? You never mentioned a dance.”
“I hardly needed to, Lulu.” The Duchess flicked a dismissive wrist at the girl. “You, my dear, are not yet out. And neither is Miss Radclyffe, for that matter.”
“But ’tis acountrydance,” Miss Bretagne whined. “No one in London need ever know.”
A naughty smile quirked about the Duchess’s mouth. “I must confess to having attended one or two country dances when I was your age, Lulu.” A dreamy look entered her eye. “They are such jolly fun.”
Lady Bertrand emitted one of her signatureoh, dear’s, and Miss Bretagne squealed with the knowledge that she’d won the day.
The Duchess settled her gaze onto Isabel. “Dearest, if the day is a success, this is just the sort of thing that could become a tradition for Gardencourt Manor. It’s vital you put your stamp and establish traditions early on, don’t you agree?”
Every eye—except Miss Radclyffe’s—swung toward Isabel. “Why, yes, of course,” she sputtered.
The Duchess’s head canted to the side, quizzical. “Hasn’t Percy told you?”
“Told me?” Isabel remembered who she was. Well, who she was supposed to be. “Oh, yes,that. I am, um, so looking forward to it.”
What didn’t she know?
“Well, I suppose he will get to it in due time.”
“But, Duchess,” Miss Bretagne piped up from her side of the room, “I haven’t brought a dress for the occasion.”
“You shall manage, my dear. The young and determined always do.”
Eva twisted in her chair. “Miss Bretagne, any dress can be made festive with a few touches here and there.”
“Oh?”
Eva snapped her fingers. “There is nothing to it. You see this dress I’m wearing?” She stood and waved an arm as if to demonstrate its many fine qualities.
