“Then allow me to escort you.”
She jumped up at once, only to be held back by her mother’s gentle voice. “Alone, Sophia? I think not.”
She was immediately crestfallen. “Of course. Perhaps tomorrow we can arrange a party to go. I am so sorry, Mr Payne.”
Mama gave out her tinkling little society laugh. “No, no, I do not mean to spoil your pleasure, Sophia, only to deter you from wandering off alone with a gentleman. You are so used to having your sisters with you, that you have seldom needed to consider such matters. IfIaccompany you, however—”
“That is perfect!” Sophia cried happily. “Although… I do not wish to take you away from your interesting conversation.”
Mama laughed, tucking her embroidery needle neatly into the material, and folding her work into her sewing bag. “Lady Aurelia will forgive me, I am sure. We may continue our discussion later… or tomorrow, if the weather continues inclement. Lead on, Mr Payne. I confess to a great interest in seeing this orangery myself.”
Mr Payne led them out of their satellite wing and into the main body of the house, and thence through a bewildering array of apartments, all decorated in a different style, muttering,‘Rococo… Jacobean… ah, Palladian!’as they walked. Then there was a short, narrow passage before a footman guarding an arched door threw it open to allow them to pass.
It was like being in a strange sort of indoor forest. All around were the orange and lemon trees, set in giant pots on wheeled platforms. There were pineapple plants, too — she recognised them from an engraving she had once seen in a book — but many of the plants were unrecognisable to her. The air was warm, and musty with the aroma of soil and a multitude of plants. The floor was tiled, and the high roof gave the room an echoey feel, like a cathedral. To one side was a solid wall, but the opposite side ofthe room was dark — glass, she saw, like a giant window looking out into the night.
“Oh!” she breathed, thrilled. “It is snowing.”
“So it is,” Mr Payne murmured beside her. “She will want to sit and watch the snow.”
“Who will?” Sophia said, but he had walked straight over to the window, there to gaze out, mesmerised, at the steady snowfall.
Sophia and her mama followed, albeit rather nervously, for there was the sound of a harp playing somewhere in the orangery. They were not alone! The music stopped, and a lady rose from behind a bank of greenery, a vision of loveliness such as Sophia had seldom seen. She had grown used to Rowena’s beauty, but here was another one to make her wish that she had been born with smooth skin, rosy lips and enviable symmetry of feature.
“Good evening!” said the vision. “Ah, you are with Mr Payne. Pray allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Grace Skelton, daughter of the duke. You must be the Merrington ladies.”
“Indeed, I am Mrs Roland Merrington, mother of Mr Richard Merrington, heir to the Duke of Brinshire,” said Mama, instantly taking charge of the situation. “This is my youngest daughter, Sophia. I beg your pardon for intruding. We had no idea anyone would be here, and we so wanted to see the orangery that has been so much spoken of. The duke wishes to commission one of his own for his seat at Staineybank, in honour of my daughter-in-law.”
“So we understand,” Lady Grace said. “Do come in and meet my father. He does not cope well with crowds just now, but he will wish to welcome you to Marshfields personally.”
In the far corner of the room, hidden by a range of bushes that rustled gentled as they passed by, they found the duke huddled over a card table, deep in a game of piquet with awell-favoured young man, who was introduced as Lady Grace’s husband, Mr George Skelton. The duke himself was rail-thin, with the sort of grey tone to his skin often seen in those suffering a prolonged illness. He rose courteously to his feet, however, without any sign of unsteadiness.
“Mrs Merrington, and Miss Merrington, I am delighted to welcome you to my home, and to thank you for helping us to celebrate this milestone in my son’s life. But your own son is to encounter a milestone of his own very soon, I understand — the birth of his first child, and the first of many, we must all hope.”
“Indeed, and if it should be a son—”
“That would be a blessing indeed,” the duke said gently, “but a daughter is a blessing of a different kind, is it not so? I have certainly been blessed in my own daughters, who are a great comfort to me in my old age.”
“That is not what you said to us when we were younger, Papa,” Lady Grace said, with a smile. “You called us troublesome creatures, if I recall.”
“And so you were, when you were off in town spending my fortune on fripperies and doing nothing but enjoy yourselves at my expense. But then you all married and brought amiable young men into my life, and filled my house with delightful grandchildren, and so I forgive you. Will your son’s firstborn be your first grandchild, Mrs Merrington?”
“It will, your grace.”
“Then you have all the joys of that exalted state to come. Let me tell you, madam, there is only one felicity greater than the arrival of small children for a visit, except for their departure, when the house descends once more into blissful calm. Pray sit, and tell me of your son and his wife. Skelton, be so good as to pour some wine for Mrs Merrington and Miss Merrington.”
Sophia declined the offered wine, and, leaving Mama to attend to the duke, she wandered towards the high windows towatch the snow falling outside. It fell straight down, like a white waterfall, the many candles burning inside illuminating those flakes nearest the window. Beyond, the garden lay in darkness.
“It is fascinating, is it not?” said Mr Payne, materialising at her elbow. “I could watch it all night, but should you care to look around? There are some interesting plants in here.”
“I know nothing of plants,” she said. “Tell me instead what you think of the room. It seems very elegant, to me.”
“Yes, but a little plain,” he said. “If it were me, I would add more statuary, and murals on the walls.”
“What sort of murals?”
“Oh, plants… greenery, to make the place look bigger. One would feel as if one were in a tropical garden, stretching to the horizon. And there need to be more seats… a hammock, perhaps.”
“A hammock! How lovely! One could sit here in the warmth with a book, and swing gently under the trees. Even if it were raining outside—”
