Curtis Marshal hovered at the door. He wore a suit and cravat, a bit rumpled but rather finer than she’d seen on him before. He offered his arm to lead her in, leaning over when he did so. “I promised your uncle I would look after you,” he whispered, casting a nervous glance at Gideon Kendrick standing at his place at the table.
Perhaps purgatory was simply complicated.
*
Miss Selwyn metGideon’s gaze. Is that a twinkle in her eye?Gideon was certain it was. Marshall’s protective hovering had amused him, and he suspected it amused Miss Selwyn also. She’d been warned about him by the maids, by her uncle, and unless he misunderstood Marshall’s intent whispering in her ear, by the steward as well. Her amusement told him she believed none of it, God be praised.
“See here, what’s this?” Tavernash demanded from the head of the table.
“Miss Euphemia Selwyn, may I make known to you Mr. Felton Tavernash. Tavernash, this is Miss Selwyn, our guest.” Gideon emphasized the last word.
Miss Selwyn dipped her head. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Tavernash.” Pleased, not honored, Gideon noted.
Tavernash hesitated as if waiting for the deep curtsey due, in his mind, to a duke’s heir. With a snort, he mumbled, “Uninvited guest,” and sat.
Fillmore directed the serving of the first course, and Tavernash tucked in without so much as glancing at the others.
Gideon spoke into the awkward silence. “How is your cousin this evening? You were comfortable enough to leave her.”
“She is no better. The fever persists, I fear. I left her in the care of Miss Kerr,” Miss Selwyn answered.
“I heard your maid is a formidable woman,” Marshall said.
Judging from Fillmore’s fierce frown, the lady’s maid had made an impression below stairs, Gideon thought. In many households, a lady’s maid and dresser ranked just below the butler and housekeeper. She wouldn’t be welcomed by the others.
“She is that! She adores Selina, though, and hovers like a mother hen.” Miss Selwyn’s expression seemed wary. Gideon noted she didn’t say that Kerr doted on both of the young women, merely the daughter of the house.
“Have you found something enjoyable to read?” he asked.
She brightened at that. “I’m reading Sir Walter Scott’sWaverleyto Selina, and I enjoy it thoroughly. Selina listens when she’s awake, but I fear she would prefer something by Mrs. Radcliffe.”
“M’mother disapproves of novels for ladies,” Tavernash interjected, glancing up from his food. “Wouldn’t approve of young ladies cutting up a gentleman’s peace, either.”
Miss Selwyn put her fork down and appeared to struggle for a response to that. Gideon glanced over at Marshall. Marshall spoke first, glaring at Tavernash. “Unexpected visitors can be a burden,” he said. “But we don’t turn guests in need away from Woodglen.”
“Indeed,” Gideon added. “What would the shire think if poor Miss Selwyn were to die from her illness because we turned her out in the rain that morning?”
“M’mother…” Whatever pearl of wisdom Tavernash meant to dispense disappeared when servants arrived with the meat course and distracted him. His piggy eyes darted around the table periodically. Gideon wondered if the fool took in more than he let on.
“So do you prefer Scott to Radcliffe?” Gideon asked, turning the subject.
“Indeed. It takes me away to adventure and real history,” Miss Selwyn said. “Quite stirring.”
“Do you have Jacobite sympathies, Miss Selwyn?” Gideon teased.
“Sympathy for what happened to the highlanders, certainly,” she replied. “But where do Mr. Scott’s sympathies lie? His poor hero began in the English army and is now afloat in the highlands.”
“I think perhaps he tries to have it both ways,” Gideon said.
“Perhaps his sympathy is with suffering, the pain of divided loyalty, and the complexity of war and politics,” she said.
“Well said, Miss Selwyn. Perhaps his domain is the human heart,” Gideon answered.
“I’m not sure what is so complex about patriotism and loyalty,” Marshall said. Soon the three of them were deep in a lively discussion of the Stuart succession and Jacobite ambitions. By the time a tasty pudding was served to end the meal, the three of them agreed, at least, that violent overthrow of government was a bad thing indeed.
Even Tavernash spoke up to endorse that idea. “People have to respect their God-given betters,” he pronounced with a satisfied nod.
Miss Selwyn finished her pudding with relish and set down her spoon. “I best take my leave of you now,” she said.
