The sword room. Oh dear.
That conjured up visions of my aunt and Lily in full costume, swords drawn—blunted hopefully—and squaring off with one another. A situation fraught with frightening possibilities.
Aunt Antonia had given me lessons several years earlier, before I acquired professional lessons in Paris. And she was still strong and quite agile…for one who was near eighty-seven years of age. My concern was for Lily.
She was young, daring, and adventuresome to be certain, and with a bravado that might be considered reckless. I had visions of her attempting to outmaneuver my aunt, which might result in injury.
It was undoubtedly that protective instinct that Brodie had cautioned me about.
“Lady Montgomery has lived a long and most interesting life. And ye are the same—stubborn, too brave fer yer own good, and fierce when it comes to yer own. There is every possibility that she will outlive ye in spite of it all. Ye shouldn’t worry yerself.”
Yes, well. Far more easily said than done.
I took the staircase that led from the main floor to the second-floor chambers that included the sword room, then quickly traversed the long hall past other rooms, including my former bedchamber as well as my sister Linnie’s.
That also included the portrait room with all those rather colorful ancestors glaring down from gilt frames, and Aunt Antonia’s suite of rooms.
The portrait of our most notable ancestor, King William I, also known as William the Conqueror, was in the old part of Sussex Square, that was also referred to as the ‘fortress.’
He had been an austere fellow, obviously not at all pleased to sit for a portrait, considering the expression on his face. Or he was possibly suffering from gout or some other malady.
I did have a rather colorful ancestry.
The sounds reached me before I came to the entrance to the sword room. There was a curse in a voice I easily recognized, followed by a ballyhoo.
“Aha! Now I have you.”
I took a deep breath and prepared myself for mayhem, then entered the sword room, half expecting to see blood drawn.
Not precisely blood drawn, but the victor standing off her opponent with the tip of the rapier
“Oh, hello, dear. Do come in.” Aunt Antonia greeted me as she stood over Lily, who was sprawled on the carpet, cheeks quite colorful from her exertions. Or possibly a tad of embarrassment at having apparently been bested by an opponent four times her age.
“We were just having a go at it. Lily was curious about a certain move.”
“Are you all right?” I inquired, as my aunt stood back with a self-satisfied expression, and I extended a hand to Lily.
“Yes, very much so,” she replied, as she took my offered hand, and I helped her to her feet.
“The woman is dangerous!” she whispered in a side comment.
“She is competitive. Always has been,” I replied.
“I’m surprised that ye survived yer lessons with her.”
“Hmmm, yes, she was a bit younger and quite…” I searched for the word.Competitivecame to mind.
“You must remember that she is descended from fierce ancestors,” I reminded her. “Including a highwayman or two, a duke who was known for the number of opponents he bested, and several others of somewhat dubious character and skill with both a blade and pistol. And she cannot be trusted to follow the rules,” I added.
Lily grinned. “As I have learned. She is quite marvelous, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.”
“What brings you to Sussex Square, dear?” Aunt Antonia inquired as she removed her mask and tucked it under one arm. “Have I forgotten an engagement?”
“Not at all. I’ve taken an inquiry case for Lady Katherine Ambersley and have questions that I thought you might assist with.”
“Kitty Ambersley?”
