Lavinia continued, pulling us to one side to avoid a particularly messy-looking patch of mud: “It is a merry circumstance indeed, all our girls coming out at the same ball. Mine are a bit young, I know, but this is a season not to be missed.” Again, she fell into an exaggerated whisper. “The prince,” she said, and pursed her lips with pleasure, imagining, I was sure, a match for one of her daughters. Glancing back to look at them, I couldn’t help but feel, despite their sallow faces, a little stir of competition.
“I have heard some conjecture that he is looking to marry,” I acknowledged. Through a gap in the timbered houses, I could see laystalls in the rear yards that had been filled with animal entrails, feces, and rotting vegetables. It explained the smell.
Lavinia cut in: “He is marvelously talented. A wonderful conversationalist. Extremely handsome. He cuts a dashing figure, to be sure.”
“You are lucky to be so acquainted!”
“My Finnie tells me all. And he has told me this is not just any ball; it’s a chance for the prince to choose.” She told me this as if I had not shared the same information a moment before. “Of course, I heard he had an engagement to a princess from one kingdom over”—she lowered her voice again—“and it fell through. Anyhow, my girls haveknown His Royal Highness for years; they’ve been to many of the same places and even occasionally at the same time! I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to say there’s a good chance one of them could be spending more time at the palace, but I bet they’ll get a dance in at the least.”
A glance backward indicated the twins had little opinion—or perhaps say—in the matter. I offered an encouraging smile before turning back to their mother. “Your Finnian is surely a fixture at court by now.” Young Finnie probably weighed one hundred pounds. I doubted he was a fixture anywhere. “You must miss him.”
“Where else would I have him? I see him plenty. He’s back now, this very moment sitting drinking ale with the other men, right here in town. He’s here to scout one of the hunting expeditions. You know we have the perfect marshes on our land for waterfowl? Finnie has naturally suggested the property as well situated for a hunt. His father minds not in the least. Not in the least! In fact, Finnie has proved invaluable because of his knowledge. They’ve put together a party and are going after grouse and bustard—”
It was easy to let Lavinia talk. You only had to make small noises now and then and she kept going. We had almost managed to go the length of the street, which ended at the silk merchant’s shop, and I hadn’t needed—or been given an opportunity—to ask a question. When Lavinia had nearly exhausted herself, finally pausing to take a breath, I found an opening. “Are you staying in town for the ball?” I interjected.
“In an inn?” She wrinkled her nose.
“It’s just not proper. For the girls.” I shook my head in agreement. “But it’ssucha long carriage ride for them. So boring. They’ll be like wilted flowers when they arrive.”
Lavinia furrowed her brow. “They’ll have to perk up.”
I leaned toward her. “After all that time in a hot carriage? With such a low roof and little air?”
Lavinia trembled at the thought.
“If only,” I thought out loud, “there were a way to keep them fresh. Some way to keep them entertained—”
“I know!” she cried. “We’ll bring them together. They’ll keep one another amused.”
Though I was delighted, I protested: “Certainly that’s out of your way! And far too generous!” I didn’t mean a word of it. The Enrights had a massive carriage with equipage pretty enough to make up for two hours in a confined space with Lavinia.
“Nonsense,” she disagreed. “We have the extra seats; you’ll come with us. We’ll drop you off again at the end of the evening.”
We had reached the silk merchant’s and came to a stop. I shook my head before going inside. “Well.” I sighed. “You’ve given me no choice but to accept.”
After securing the cloth for the girls, I had one last task. The village had three drinking houses, and instinct alone sent me looking for Finnian in the least respectable of them. The dim lighting and thick air did little to disguise seats missing their upholstery and the lingering smell of unwashed bodies. Weathered faces and dull eyes stared into duller tankards of beer. Near the sole window, an old crone could barely keep herself on her stool. In my silk jacket, I was as noticeable as a dahlia growing in a barren field. I was relieved when I spied young Finnie in a corner.
He was pink in the face, alone, though there were enough empty tankards around him to suggest he had once had company. Had I looked under the table, I was certain his feet would be dangling a few inches above the floor.
“Finnian,” I said sternly, waving some of the pipe smoke out of the way, though the gesture did little good.
He tried to focus on my face. “Yes?”
“You must tell me when you will be hunting with the royal entourage.”
He narrowed his little-boy eyes and hiccupped.
“Come on, then.”
“What do you care for hunting?” He hiccupped once more. “You’re a woman.” He slumped a little at the observation.
I rubbed my hands together, impatient. Down the row of tables, a man with a scarred face and mismatched shoes fixed me with a stare. “I commend your powers of analysis.”
“What are you doing in an alehouse?”
“There are other women here.” I glanced around. There were no other reputable women there. “Your mother couldn’t help but sing your praises in the market just now. And I thought: I bet Finnian could assist me. She said you knew every little thing about fowl this time of year. I am planning a party and I want the perfect bird on the table. I thought perhaps you could get one for me during your next hunt. When is your next hunt?”
He watched me. “It’s true. I know everything there is to know about teal. And mallards.”
