‘Keep your guard close until you lunge, then bend and stretch,’ Phoebe corrected as her youngest sister paused to re-tie the stocking around her forehead.
‘Don’t encourage her!’ Sophie scolded, retrieving both her stocking and parasol in one deft move. ‘It’s bad enough you think you’re Boudicca, without filling Matty’s head too!’
There was a brief pause while the elder sisters contemplated each other frankly.
‘Lord, Phoebs, I agree wedeserveto have as many adventures as our brothers,’ Sophie exhaled, finally pinning down the errant curl, ‘but there are some things within our ability to change, and some that aren’t. Whatever his reasons, Papa left an instruction in his will for hiseldestdaughter to wed the earl when of marriageable age and – while I don’t envy you – thatisyou! I’m not even out for another year, and we both know Mama wouldn’t have approved of my taking your place, for any reason. Besides, isn’t a last wish kind of … binding?’
Phoebe gazed around at the bedchamber she’d shared with Sophie when they were children. She was absolutely right, of course, Mama had always been such a stickler for manners and etiquette, and would have taken to her bed for nothing less than a week over Phoebe’s latest escapade. Quite how she’d have handled the notion of her prettiest daughter having to take Phoebe’s place didn’t even bear thinking about.
‘At least Mama would have let me have a season,’ Phoebe muttered, tracing the shadow of the afternoon sun across Sophie’s embroidered coverlet.
She couldn’t recall a time when they hadn’t gathered in this room to play, fight or dream up their latest theatrical adventure and she wondered despondently, how many of these cosy afternoons she had left with her sisters.
Tilly, the decoy maid, had been duly dispatched after a week, and apart from a stiff enquiry after the health of her wound, Thomas had avoided Phoebe’s company. She wasn’t entirely surprised – it was his way – but his absence of conversation about the earl and the wedding was making her nervous. It would be just like him to spring it on her when she was least expecting it.
‘I don’t see why you don’t just tell Thomas you’re too injured to marry soon,’ Matilda frowned, hoisting herself up onto the window seat. ‘That’s what I’d do… And then I’d light a beacon on Exmouth cliff, and wait for a pirate ship to come and find me!’
Everyone paused to look at Matilda, who was busy reaching out of the latticed window to grasp a large ivory magnolia petal.
‘Well … the first part has merit,’ Sophie considered. ‘Don’t lean out that far, dearest!’ she added sharply, ‘not unless you want to land in one of the groundsman’s barrows!’
Matilda laughed, and hooked a foot under the ledge.
‘It’s not such an untruth, anyway, is it?’ she grinned, ‘I heard you tell one of the grooms your shoulder was aching like the d––’
‘Yes, yes, dearest, it does ache a little,’ Phoebe interrupted, side-eyeing Sophie who was glaring intently.
‘I suppose it’s worth a shot though, isn’t it?’ Sophie mused after a beat. ‘I mean, even the earl couldn’t object to a period of convalescence after such aterriblefall from a horse.’ She rolled her eyes at the additional story Thomas had invented for the earl and remainder of their small Devon social circle. ‘Perhaps we could even badger Thomas for a trip away, somewhere?’
‘Mama would insist on Bath,’ Josephine muttered, still buried in her book, ‘and that Phoebe took the waters – like an old maid.’
They all started to laugh.
‘Well, it’s not exactly duelling with highwaymen or sailing the seven seas,’ Sophie managed, when she’d recovered, ‘but you wouldn’t be counting down the days at Knightswood, either.’
She reached to tuck a lock of tumbling hair from her sister’s face.
‘And you never know, Bath might actually prove to be unexpectedly adventurous? Just with less swords … and onions…’
Phoebe caught Sophie’s hand.
‘You know, I wouldn’t have expected you to take my place with the earl, not for all the tea in China,’ she muttered protectively.
‘It’s my duty, and…’
‘Maybe,’ Sophie returned, her eyes dancing with mischief, ‘but notquiteyet! Why don’t we ask dear old Harriet to recommend a convalescence stay with Aunt and Uncle Higglestone, in Bath? Thomas could hardly refuse if it comes from Mama’s lady’s maid. Sheisthe final arbiter on all things polite and proper, after all!’
Phoebe stared at Sophie, a glimmer of hope in her indigo eyes. Miss Harriet Godminster had retired after Mama’s death, and now lived in the local village, but she still held the kind of power afforded to all domestic staff who’d watched their charges grow out of breeches and petticoats.
Even Thomas was afraid of her.
‘I do believe dear Harriet would be happy to vouch for us,’ Phoebe returned with a slow smile, ‘especially since she considers I should be bed-bound with a lavender compress, anyway.’
‘Then it’s a plan!’ Sophie grinned. ‘And I shall persuade her we all need to accompany you – just to ensure you don’t over-excite yourself!’
‘In Bath? In March?!’ Phoebe remonstrated, yet even she had to admit to the new pulse of excitement seeping through her veins.
It wasn’t London or the Grand Tour, but it wasn’t Devon either, and who knew what could happen in ten whole weeks?! It was more than enough time for an adventure or two – perhaps even enough time to do something a little heroic…
