‘I wonder at it that you are not thinner, Mr Escott,’ Elizabeth murmured, but he remained lost in his own thoughts, and only when addressed once more by Lady82Chalford did he emerge from the contemplation of his own sacrifice to Poetry, and withdrew as a mezzo-soprano began to sing.
Elizabeth did not sleep well, tossing and turning between dreams in which mocking laughter followed her through a series of wildly improbable scenes. When she did waken fully she felt jaded, and greeted her maid rather blearily. Ditcham was, however, forcefully cheery, and adjured her mistress to make the best of what was a bright morning.
‘Though the breeze is easterly, and that is always a chill one, Miss Elizabeth, so do not forget your tippet. You can take Miss Amelia for a walk in the park. It will do you both the power of good.’
‘You make her sound like a lapdog, Ditcham,’ murmured Elizabeth, yawning. ‘However, fresh air may well clear my head, and walking early may avoid encounters with persons liable to spout poetry at one.’
Ditcham found this remark somewhat cryptic, but nodded in agreement nonetheless. Elizabeth rose and dressed, and knocked upon Amelia’s door to see if she was prepared to face the day. Untroubled by nightmarish dreams, Amelia was feeling quite energetic, and perfectly happy to accompany her cousin to see the spring flowers coming into their full glory. They breakfasted together, and then set forth to Hyde Park, tippet-wrapped. It was impossible for Amelia not to comment upon the previous evening, but she tried to do so in a way that might make Elizabeth feel better.
‘Lady Godmanchester is, I am convinced, quite right83about Mr Escott. Nobody is going to ask him to read his verses at their evenings, and I am sure most people regard him as a silly boy.’
Elizabeth smiled at this, coming from Amelia at seventeen, when Mr Escott must be all of four and twenty. ‘Are Lord Carbrooke or Mr Southram “silly boys” too?’
‘Well, they are youthful,’ admitted Amelia, ‘but they are not silly. I mean they can say silly things to entertain one, but they are not prone to stupid fancies like Mr Escott.’ A faint colour came into her cheeks. ‘I spoke with Lord Carbrooke’s mama last night, very briefly. She commented upon my gown, and seemed very nice.’
Which implied, thought Elizabeth, that her son had mentioned Miss Ashling several times, and his cautious mama was finding out as quickly as possible what sort of a girl she was. She said nothing. It was then that a large bay horse cantering towards them was slowed by its rider. Sir Lucius Radstock touched his hat and nodded to the ladies.
‘Taking the morning air, I see. How are the MissesAshling?’
‘Quite well, I thank you, Sir Lucius.’ Elizabeth was conscious that there was a smile lurking in his eyes, and was suspicious.
‘And did you enjoy yesterday evening?’ He spoke casually.
‘Well, I most certainly did not, sir, and if you as much as mention poetry I shall most likely pull you from your horse and murder you with my hatpin,’ Elizabeth snapped at him.
‘Oh.’ He looked quite taken aback for a moment, but84then his lips twitched reprehensibly. ‘That would be a very gruesome demise and probably the first such case to come before the criminal courts. I, er, take it that young Escott was present.’
‘Present and presented, Sir Lucius. Sixty lines.’ She sounded exasperated.
‘And all about my cousin, sir. He likened her to Gloriana,’ offered Amelia.
‘Good Lord, how glad I am that Godmanchester and I did not attend. I quite understand your threat of violence upon my person in that case, Miss Ashling. I can only apologise and say that I merely assumed it would be an evening of insipid music and dull conversation.’
‘So you gave it the go-by, Sir Lucius.’
‘I did, and without a single qualm, ma’am. I can think of few worse ways to spend an evening.’
‘Worse, sir, is having execrable verse spouted while everyone in the room knows one to be its object, and being the recipient of sly smiles and silent mockery.’
‘You must needs develop a thick skin, Miss Ashling, and ignore them.’
‘Easy to say and hard to do, Sir Lucius. If only I were a man.’
He blinked. ‘Forgive me, but I think you make a better woman than you would a man, ma’am.’
‘Yes, but if I were a man I would not be a “muse” and if any fellow got my back up, as Mr Escott has done, I could’ – she paused and considered the options – ‘punch him on the nose.’
‘You are in a most bellicose humour this morning, Miss85Ashling. I am fortunate, therefore, that I am mounted upon a decent horse and can retreat at speed.’
‘Very lily-livered of you, sir.’ Elizabeth could not keep the tremor of a laugh from her voice.
‘Ah, but discretion is the better part of valour. I shall avoid death by hatpin, and wish you a good day. Ladies.’ Sir Lucius touched his crop to his hat once more and trotted away.
‘I find Sir Lucius rather disconcerting, Elizabeth. One has to concentrate so hard to keep up with him.’ Amelia sighed, but then the sigh became a groan. Walking, or rather swaggering, towards them was Lord Nuneaton, his smile predatory. There was no way in which they might turn about without being extremely rude, and perforce had to accept his greeting with a good grace.
Lord Nuneaton made his bow to them both, but it was almost immediately clear that he regarded Elizabeth as of no more consequence than a dutiful abigail in attendance, and his attentions were entirely focused upon the very uncomfortable Amelia. Elizabeth listened and observed with revulsion, and could well understand why poor Amelia had stiffened at his approach. His smile was positively reptilian, and Elizabeth was conscious of feeling that his inappropriate compliments and leering expressions emanated not from a lack of experience in recent years, but rather a pleasure in discommoding a young woman set at a disadvantage by her innocence and youthful respect for her seniors. Elizabeth, by contrast, was several years older, more worldly-wise, and not at all afraid of putting their unwanted companion in his place.
86‘I am glad to see that you have wrapped up warmly, Miss Ashling. I would hate to think of a pernicious breeze harming your “neck”.’ Nuneaton’s comment might have been seen as considerate, had he not invested the word with significance, his focus not been upon her bosom and his eyes twinkling wickedly as though he were imagining her disrobed entirely. He awaited Amelia’s blush with relish.
