Phoebe nodded, eyeing her carefully. Josephine still hadn’t recovered fully, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether her sister should be out at all.
‘I’ll make you a honey tonic later,’ she promised.
‘When you’re a countess, you’ll be too important to make honey tonics!’ Josephine replied, her eyes bruised with exhaustion.
Phoebe smiled to cover a dart of fear; it was true: no one knew her sister’s affliction the way she did.
‘I’ll still have Sophie,’ Josephine soothed, as if she could read Phoebe’s mind, ‘and we can write down all your top-secret tonics and tinctures before you leave, so we’ll have plenty of remedies to try if we need them.’
‘Well, I’ll drink poisoned water to that,’ Phoebe rallied. ‘And who’s to say you won’t all be able to come and stay with me? I have it on excellent authority that the earl has several huge houses, and I think we should put them all to good use!’
‘He might not like that!’ Matilda mused. ‘But, as a countess you can probably do exactly as you please – perhaps even chop off people’s heads!’
‘Matilda!’ Sophie protested, while Phoebe and Josephine started to laugh.
‘Who’s losing their head? And for what crime?’ a jovial voice interrupted, making them all look up.
‘The earl – if he won’t have us to stay!’ Matilda returned, with a scowl.
‘How lovely to see you, Captain Elliot!’ Sophie exclaimed swiftly.
Phoebe looked at the captain in his spotless military uniform; his medals gleaming and his fair hair groomed into the latest fashion. He was a respected, upstanding officer – a veteran of Waterloo, no less – and yet he hid a secret that could change everything in a heartbeat. She might not know how two gentlemen could love one another, but a discreet enquiry had confirmed that the most severe penalty awaited, should such a relationship ever be discovered.
‘Captain Elliot!’ She smiled at him warmly.
He bent over her hand with his usual flourish, and yet she could sense a slight wariness, too. In a rush, she realised he must have heard Fred shout her name in the park, that he was wondering whether she knew his secret and would keep it, too. She met his gaze, certain there was a brief acknowledgement, before Matilda gasped.
‘Of course! The captain can shoot the earl in a duel if he refuses to let us stay!’ she exclaimed. ‘Captain, please shoot the earl, then we can all move in permanently – Phoebe can look after Josephine, Sophie can design pelisses, and I…’
They all waited, their expressions ranging from delight to abject horror.
‘And I can become a pirate!’ she finished, triumphantly. ‘Anyway, no one need be in the doldrums anymore because I have fixed it all!’
‘Does Miss Sophie have aspirations in the … er … ladies’ fashion industry?’ Captain Elliot enquired, eyes dancing.
‘Not yet, but she should!’ Matilda grinned, attracting the disapproval of several mamas whose own delicate offspring were behaving with the utmost propriety. ‘She is forever sketching the things, and Lord knows she talks about fashion enough!’
‘That is quite enough, Matilda!’ Aunt Higglestone exclaimed, bustling up next to them. ‘I do apologise, Captain Elliot. Matilda is a very spirited child, with a lot of spirited ideas.’
‘Not at all, Mrs Higglestone,’ the captain replied gamely. ‘A young lady with both spirit and ideas is very special indeed! Consider me at your disposal, General Matilda, your word is my command!’
Then he bowed as an unapologetic Matilda was whisked away, to endure one of Aunt Higglestone’s longer monologues on appropriate conversational topics in the Pump Room.
‘One really should restrict oneself to the weather, and the health of the person with whom one is conversing,’ Josephine parroted with a giggle.
‘Don’t you start, Josephine Fairfax!’ Sophie declared. ‘It’s bad enough the captain thinks we have one shameless villain in the family!’
‘I would be disappointed if there weren’t more!’ The captain winked, making Sophie flush.
‘It really is lovely to see you this morning, captain!’ Phoebe insisted, wondering again if she was doing her sister any favours by withholding the truth.
He’d clearly perfected the art of distraction, perhaps with too little consideration for the effect of his attentions. She could only hope his unit would be recalled soon, and his absence would prove a gentle let down.
‘How are you finding the waters?’ she added.
‘The waters, I confess, are the least of the attractions this morning,’ he smiled.
‘You’re such an incorrigible flatterer, Captain Elliot.’ Sophie giggled, tapping his forearm with her new French lace fan.
