Jane sighed, knowing better than to argue with that truth. "In all events, I trust she does not expect us to introduce her to the earl. I didn’t even know he was in the area, and I am certainly not going to go out of my way to make his acquaintance.”
“I have no doubt Serena and Millicent will somehow contrive to meet him,” said Lady Elsbeth dryly. "But I do wish she’d given me more notice. A house party in less than a week! She was also rather vague about the number of guests accompanying her. I must speak to Mrs. Phibbs about airing some rooms and stocking the larder. And what shall we do about entertainment?”
A slow smile spread across Jane’s lips.
Lady Elsbeth, seeing her niece’s expression, repressed a shudder. "I know that look. You’re planning mischief.”
“Not at all. I am merely contemplating how we might use Penwick Park for entertainment that may swiftly chase off my dear aunt and cousin.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Unless Aunt Serena and Millicent have drastically changed in the past few years, they hate to bestir themselves unless it is for dancing or shopping. Their idea of enjoyment is to sit in a central portion of a room, strike an elegant pose, and allow the world to come to them. No, not allow,demandthe world come to them. Consequently, what do you think would happen if we plan sports and games, picnics, and outings; in short, all manner of active country pastimes? Perhaps we could also make a point of including the children whenever possible. Yes. We shall contrive entertainments that are anything but sedentary. Then we will see how much my aunt and dear cousin like the country!”
Lady Elsbeth’s answering smile was all that Jane could hope for.
“You won’t throw a rub in my way?”
“I? I should say not. I don’t know what has happened in the past between you and Serena, but I’ll wager you’ll take the ribbon this meet. I must confess Serena has never been a favored sibling of mine. And I cannot help but wonder if she wishes my spinster services somehow, which is why she is so anxious to see you married. While I, too, wish to see you married, I have no intention of becoming her unpaid servant when that happy event transpires. No, plan what you will. I shall be a cheerful spectator of this game.”
Jane’s expressive green eyes narrowed in thought. "Games. . .games. . . Yes. I shall plan recreation totally in keeping with Penwick Park’s attributes, and therefore above suspicion. I might even come to enjoy this visit.”
“I wouldn’t care to hazard funds on that likelihood, but I shan’t interfere.” Lady Elsbeth gathered up her correspondence. "As I stated before, I have household plans to make with Mrs. Phibbs. May I ask a boon of you?”
Jane set down her coffee cup and absently brushed muffin crumbs from the tablecloth into her hand. "Naturally, Elsbeth. You know better than to ask.” She emptied her hand over her plate.
“I know, but as I am the one here on sufferance, I feel a need to ask and not presume.” She ignored Jane’s annoyed expression. "I was to take a decoction of herbs over to Mrs. Chitterdean this morning. Her maid has contracted a perfectly wicked grippe that is threatening to descend into her chest. Mrs. Chitterdean is frantic, for evidently, Mr. Chitterdean is susceptible to every ill, and whenever he does take to his bed with an illness, he invariably loses his voice completely. Not a sound can he make, not even a whisper!”
Jane laughed."I understand her concern. For a man of the cloth to lose his voice must be a veritable disaster! I shall be happy to take your medicinal syrup over to the parsonage.”
“Thank you. And I promise to do all I can to make this proposed visit from my sister as short as possible. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what contretemps lies between yourself and Serena?”
Jane smiled, albeit wistfully, as she rose from the table. "No, best of my aunts, not even for you shall I wallow in my unhappy past. It is done. It is obvious that even Aunt Serena sees it in that light. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak to Twink about delaying the boys’ lessons for the day. You know,” she mused with a tiny laugh, “I do believe that were I forced to earn wages, I should make a frightful governess. I can always seem to discover an excuse for putting off lessons."
Lady Elsbeth laughed as she tucked her sister’s letter into a small pocket at the side of her high-waisted morning gown. "But just the sort of governess the boys would prefer. Nevertheless, I don’t know why you insist on taking over their lessons.”
“Because poor Twink is barely capable of supervising the boys. I dare not ask her to do more than that. Besides, the subjects the boys are studying would leave her baffled and querulous if she were asked anything. But if we do not attempt to establish some measure of discipline in this household, we shall be ridden roughshod.”
Lady Elsbeth laughed and shook her head."No matter. Come down to the stillroom when you are ready to leave. I shall make up a basket for Mrs. Chitterdean and leave it on the worktable.”
CHAPTER 2
Jane Grantley scanned the blackberry hedge. It was early in the season, though many branches near the top of the verdant growth already sported large, deeply-colored berries. Not enough, perhaps, for jam making, but far too many to leave to the birds alone. Blackberries with cream would make a nice treat for the children’s tea, and the idea of picking the ripe fruit reminded Jane of her happy childhood. It was funny how life took so many odd twists and turns, quite in the manner of the maze at Hampton Court.
It was eight years since she’d been without care and had the freedom to pick berries. Not since her mother died shortly after Mary’s wedding. Afterward, it took a long time to pick up the pieces of her life, to sail ahead, ready to meet new experiences with assurance. Luckily or unluckily, the semblance of confidence was easily donned until, with time, the genuine article came to cloak her.
Jane sorely missed her mother when she’d had her come-out. Perhaps if she’d been alive, Jane’s life would have run differently. She doubted she’d be worrying Lady Elsbeth with fears of spinsterhood. Unfortunately, without her mother’s calm, good sense, and guidance, it took her a painfully long timeto learn to believe in herself. At least those days were long past, and she could once again enjoy life.
Jane glanced down at the empty basket she’d set by her feet, then glanced up toward the sun, screening her eyes with a slender hand as she evaluated that fiery orb’s position in the sky. She hadn’t tarried long at the parsonage. Mrs. Chitterdean was too distracted for stimulating conversation, her thoughts on the sick housemaid, and her husband’s susceptibility to infection. She’d thanked Jane effusively for the herbs and questioned her closely on their proper usage. Then her mind seemed to drift away toward the tiny upstairs room the maid occupied. After hearing a protracted fit of hacking coughs from above stairs, Jane gracefully took her leave, promising Mrs. Chitterdean that Lady Elsbeth would brew more of the decoction should it prove necessary.
She judged that it still wanted the hour of noon, and she would not be expected back at Penwick Park for some time yet. It would be no great matter to delay her return in favor of harvesting some of summer’s early bounty. She picked up her basket and studied the ground leading to the ripe berries. She would have to step carefully, but she decided the goal was worth the effort. Smiling in delight at her enterprise, she stepped through the tall grasses and wildflowers and began filling the basket with berries. Not far away, a lark sang, accompanied by a gentle breeze soughing through the trees and bees buzzing as they moved from flower to flower in the fields and on the tiny white blossoms remaining on the hedge.
Jane realized she was filled with a serenity she’d not felt in years. She found she could even look on her aunt’s and cousin’s proposed visit with a modicum of amused equanimity. That knowledge surprised her, for the last house party she’d attended with them had been an unmitigated disaster. Though, she reflected, it had proved educational, even if it had costher a prospective groom. Months afterward, she considered it a turning point in her life.
She paused, remembering those mercurial days. How she admired and liked David Hedgeworth! She wove such schoolgirl dreams about him. He embodied for her the ideal gentleman: refined, considerate of others, gentle, organized, and intelligent. Those were the attributes she saw and most admired. What she failed to consider was his wealth. But who would blame her, as plump-in-the-pockets as she was herself? She failed to understand how desperately people sought gold’s glitter.
Jane sighed. Thanks to her aunt and cousin, she’d been well educated, and it was the Honorable Miss Millicent Tipton, rather than Miss Jane Grantley, who married David Hedgeworth. She shook her head dolefully, trying to dispel the old memories. Mr. Hedgeworth was dead now. Perhaps it was time to heal the breach with her mother’s sister. Lady Serena Tipton was no lady, but she was family, so maybe that should count for something.
Jane smiled mischievously, her eyes sparkling. Three years ago, she’d proved an apt pupil, and now she had plans to make. Elsbeth was correct, she thought with a hint of smug satisfaction. This game would be hers. Impulsively she leaned farther into the hedge, stretching to gather the plumpest and ripest berries from the top.
