Never Miss a Chance (Kellington Book Two) Page 17

  “Yes, well, hopefully the dog will have learned his lesson,” said Riverton.

  “Hope so, although it certainly has been somethin’ to talk about. Ain’t been nothin’ else of note since the squire got the letter from Lady Edith.”

  That finally drew Riverton’s attention from thoughts of Lizzie. “Lady Edith wrote to the squire?”

  “That’s what we heard tell. Old Mrs. Mills whose daughter does for the squire’s wife said him and his missus was talking about the note from Lady Edith, telling him to send you a letter for you to come to Cornwall. Much as he didn’t want to disappoint her ladyship on account of her, uh…” Lintle paused awkwardly.

  “Go ahead Lintle. I can understand how disappointing my sister can have consequences.”

  “Well,” the man cleared his throat. “The squire and his wife talked back and forth about it, then decided it would be a good time to take a trip to see his sister, then they could claim they wasn’t here to get the letter from her ladyship. I think they might have wanted to pack up and move, but in the end, they reckoned it would be the thing to say they got the message too late to do anything about it.”

  “Did my sister say why she wanted me to be summoned here?”

  “I dunno. But when you showed up, we reckoned she’d found another way to get you to come. T’weren’t no one’s business to ask why you do things. We was just glad to see you. To let you know about the sheepdog and the goat and all.”

  “And I do appreciate that, Lintle. Very much indeed. Now, tell me about the new fishing nets you need constructed.”

  Riverton continued talking to the man, all the while wondering why Edith had thought it necessary to get him across the country. What was she up to this time?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At long last the carriage arrived at the entrance to Riverton Farms. Footmen rushed out to help the ladies disembark. As Lizzie stretched her weary back, she studied the rather imposing home she’d been looking at during the impressively long approach. It was as formal as Riverton himself. Yet again she wished he were by her side.

  “Are you ready?” asked Mariah, as she took Lizzie’s arm.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  The door to the great house opened and the butler stepped out to greet them. Mansfield was as imposing a servant as Lizzie had ever met. Never one to be intimidated by anyone, she nevertheless wished her carriage dress weren’t quite so wrinkled.

  Mansfield bowed. “Welcome to Riverton Farms. I am to escort you to your rooms. Her ladyship and guests await you in the formal drawing room.”

  They entered the house and Lizzie stopped in amazement. The outside had been so imposing, but the interior had an unexpected warmth. Italian marble floors in a sandy tone stretched through the foyer and up the immense double staircase. An ancient tapestry hung on the wall, and while the battlefield it depicted didn’t do much to lend a welcoming air, the vases of fresh flowers surrounding it muted the carnage at least a bit.

  Two oversized leather chairs flanked the granite fireplace and a decidedly mutt-like dog was sleeping on the rug in front of it. No house could ever be too imposing if it contained a mutt.

  “It’s a home,” whispered Lizzie.

  She must’ve said it louder than she thought, because Mansfield added, “Lord Riverton’s work, my lady. He believes a house should be a home.”

  Mansfield escorted them up the grand staircase, then up another flight and down the hall to the guest wing. With every step they took, Lizzie could see Riverton’s good taste. There were the requisite antique vases and portraits, but also plenty of sunshine courtesy of the drapes pulled back from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Mansfield turned down another corridor, then ushered them into the sitting room between two bed chambers. Neither was particularly large. Lizzie had a feeling Lady Riverton had given them two of the lesser chambers. But even they were luxurious.

  “Lady Elizabeth, this is to be your room.” Mansfield indicated the larger of the two chambers. “Miss Prudence, your room is on the other side of the sitting room. Miss Mariah, your chamber is…” And here, the unflappable Mansfield seemed just the slightest non-plussed. “Miss Mariah, your bed chamber is in the next corridor at the very end.”

  There was a slight pause, as Mariah blushed and Prue narrowed her eyes. Then Lizzie jumped into the breach.

  “Mansfield, I have a rather embarrassing fault to confess to you. According to my brothers, I have a tendency to snore. Apparently I make a dreadful amount of noise. Might it be possible for me to take Miss Mariah’s chamber and for her to have mine? I simply cannot countenance keeping my aunt awake at night. I daresay I could awaken everyone in this wing if even a portion of what my brothers say is true.”

  “Of course, my lady,” said Mansfield, as he bowed. “I shall make the arrangements straight away. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your chamber.”

  With a brilliant smile to her Aunt and Mariah, Lizzie followed the butler down the hall to what was quite likely the smallest room in the house. Possibly the county.

  After changing her gown and walking the halls solely for the exercise and very much not to learn more about Riverton’s private life, Lizzie could put off joining the party no longer. She went downstairs to the formal drawing room. Two footmen opened the double doors, then Mansfield announced her.

  The formal drawing room – while certainly formal – was also filled with fresh flowers. One wall was loaded with bookshelves, always a promising sign. The thick Aubusson carpet, the draperies, and the crystal sconces all foretold the obvious wealth of the estate. But Lizzie was once again struck by how there was real warmth around her, at least where it concerned the furnishings. The people were another matter all together.

  Lizzie turned her attention to the occupants of the room. Lady Riverton was rather chilly in her greeting to Lizzie. Edith and Charlotte nodded slightly in her general direction. Edith was eating a tea cake. Charlotte was looking in the mirror, evidently liking what she saw.

  Lizzie was surprised to see that the only other guest in attendance was the Earl of Stalford. The earl raised her hand to his lips. “Lady Elizabeth,” he said. “How good it is to see you again. I have missed speaking with you in London. Indeed, any time I enter a ballroom and find you not within, I have the overwhelming urge to run for the exit.”

  Lizzie smiled at the absurd flattery as she tugged her hand away. “At least here if you should run for the exit, you would find yourself with no end of places to hide.”

  “But now you have come and I shall be perfectly content to remain. Unless, of course, you should wish to run away as well.”

  “Why should I run away when I have only just arrived? I am looking forward to getting to know my future sisters better,” said Lizzie, very much aware of her untruth but feeling the need to be loyal to Riverton. “I trust you have heard of my understanding with the Marquess of Riverton? It has not yet been formally announced, but we are in the process of making arrangements.”

  “I had heard of it. And I wish you happy in the years ahead,” Stalford said as he smiled most winningly.

  Lizzie was a little surprised by his felicitations, which seemed genuine. It hadn’t been that long ago when he’d expressed an interest in courting her. It was at least a bit lowering to know news of her engagement would be met with such equanimity.

  “I hope, my dear Lady Elizabeth, to spend some time with you here,” he continued. “I would very much like to hear your future plans for improving the rights of women. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow during the picnic?”

  “I should like that above all things,” she said, gratified there was at least one male in England who believed in what she was doing.

  “Look who’s finally returned from one of her walks,” said Edith, looking out the window. “It is Miss Rennard, who has yet to exhaust her supply of dreadful gowns.”

  “I still don’t understand why we had to admit her to the house,” said Charlotte.

&n
bsp; Lizzie was then informed that Miss Rennard, a very distant Riverton connection, had arrived quite scandalously without a companion, saying her maid had been called home to care for a sick relation. According to Charlotte, it was quite dodgy the way Miss Rennard felt some ill nobody should take precedence over a gentleman’s daughter. If Miss Rennard truly was a gentleman’s daughter. She certainly didn’t dress befitting her station, what with her horribly outdated clothes and deplorable lack of taste. Lady Riverton had considered refusing the chit admittance – and Charlotte felt with whole mind, body and soul the girl should be shooed from the property – but if Riverton heard of them refusing to shelter a connection the consequences would be too dire to even contemplate.

  A quarter of an hour later the woman herself entered the room. Lizzie smiled at the red-haired young lady of petite stature and enviable curves. She was wearing a drab gown that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a nunnery. But it couldn’t be easy to be an uninvited guest at a house party, especially one at Riverton Farms. Lizzie excused herself to Stalford, then set out to make the acquaintance of Miss Rennard.

  “Well?” Edith asked Stalford as soon as Lizzie was out of earshot. “What progress have you made?”

  “Good God, Edith. The chit only just arrived.”

  “Then left you so she could talk to a country mouse. And to think you’re rumored to have a way with women.”

  “It’s more than a rumor, I can assure you,” he said, as he raked his eyes up and down Edith’s form to disconcert her. She looked surprisingly good in a gown that showcased her curves. He was rewarded with just a slight shiver from the lady. Of course, it was Edith, so it might just as well have been chilblains.

  “You don’t have an infinite amount of time,” said Edith. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Riverton showed up in the next few days. So whatever you’re planning, make it good and get it done. And stop looking at me as if I were mutton at a butchery. It is most unbecoming.”

  It was most unbecoming, thought Edith as she walked away in a huff. But it did cause the oddest sensations.

  “I hope you’ll allow me to introduce myself,” said Lizzie to Miss Rennard. “I’m Lady Elizabeth Kellington.”

  Miss Rennard curtsied and smiled, injecting needed warmth into the room. “I am Miss Tara Rennard. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

  “There you are,” said the recently arrived Arthur, who kissed his sister on the cheek. He smiled rather wolfishly at Miss Rennard, who looked none too happy to see him.

  That would be a first, thought Lizzie. Usually, women fell all over themselves to meet her brothers. This one was showing not just reluctance, but an out and out aversion. It made Lizzie like her even more.

  “Lord Arthur Kellington, ma’am,” he said, bowing over Miss Rennard’s hand. “At your service.”

  For a moment it seemed she wouldn’t introduce herself. After too long of a pause to have gone unnoticed she said “Miss Tara Rennard.”

  “I have heard you’re a great walker, Miss Rennard,” said Arthur. “Have you perchance had the opportunity to view the lake?”

  “I have, my lord,” she said, from what Lizzie could almost swear was a clenched jaw.

  “I should like to see it sometime myself,” said Arthur. “I understand it offers views others would be envious to behold.”

  Miss Rennard narrowed her eyes at him, but whatever she was going to say was cut off as Mansfield announced that dinner was served.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you,” Miss Rennard said to Lizzie with a smile. A smile that disappeared when she turned to the other Kellington. “Lord Arthur.” Then she turned on her heel and walked toward the dining room, leaving Arthur grinning at the back of her.

  “Arthur,” said Lizzie. “What have you done to the nice Miss Rennard?”

  “What makes you think I’ve done anything? Furthermore, what makes you think she’s so nice?”

  Lizzie looked at her brother appraisingly. “She’s a Riverton connection. Quite possibly the only good one to be found. Do have a care, will you?”

  “I always do,” he said with a smile.

  Dinner turned out to be a bizarre affair. The food itself was everything it should be. Riverton obviously employed an excellent cook. Lizzie was pleased to find herself seated next to Stalford on one side and Miss Rennard on the other.

  Poor Arthur was at the other end of the table seated next to Charlotte, whose bosom was vying for the position of Guest of Honor.

  Stalford’s conversation was all it should’ve been. Light, witty and charming. He was an easy conversationalist. He even drew out Miss Rennard, which was kind of him as it seemed the girl was quite shy.

  Edith more or less kept to herself, intent upon the dishes.

  Charlotte and her breasts were telling a story she’d heard about a curricle race from London to Brighton in which a farmer’s son had been injured as he was watching from the side of the road. It turned out the loser of the race had to give the boy’s family five quid to have his leg set properly, which was quite ridiculous, since none of it would’ve happened if the child had been in the field working instead of gawking at the side of the road.

  “But wasn’t that exactly what the London crowd was doing?” asked Lizzie.

  “Yes,” said Charlotte, as if to an imbecile. “But they were from London and he was a farmer’s child. And Lord Carruthers might not even have lost the race if it hadn’t been for the accident.”

  “It was Carruthers’s fault for being reckless,” said Lizzie.

  “How typical of you to think such a thing,” said Charlotte.

  “I think she makes a rather valid point,” said Miss Rennard quietly while her eyes were blazing.

  The Earl of Stalford cleared his throat, settling everyone else at the table. “I must agree with Lady Elizabeth. I have long decried the practice of young bucks risking life and limb on these races, especially when others could be injured, too. I’m glad some recompense was paid, but nothing could truly mend a distraught mother’s heart. No payment would ever be enough.”

  “Not even five quid?” asked Charlotte. “For a farmer’s child?”

  “No, Lady Charlotte,” said the Earl of Stalford solemnly. “Not even five quid. I commend Lady Elizabeth for bringing yet another injustice to light.”

  Edith rolled her eyes, then went back to her turbot.

  Lizzie, in the meantime, wondered just what the Earl of Stalford was up to.

  When Lizzie finally excused herself for the night, she walked the halls and her thoughts once again turned to Marcus. Did he read before going to sleep? Was he serious about not giving her a separate bed chamber?

  She rather hoped he was.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lizzie awoke the next morning later than usual because she’d hardly slept. Thoughts of Marcus had filled her head as she lay awake, then invaded her dreams for the fitful few hours she slumbered.

  She went downstairs just in time to meet two unexpected arrivals to the house party, Francis and Lucinda Marley, a brother and sister from Leeds. There were cousins to the Earl of Shively, a neighbor of Riverton Farms. When the Marleys arrived and found him from home, they’d been quite beside themselves, unsure what they should do. However, Lady Riverton had very graciously taken them in.

  As Lizzie watched Charlotte fawn over the Marleys, she wondered at the difference in their treatment compared to Miss Rennard’s. When Stalford appeared at Lizzie’s elbow, it appeared he could read her mind.

  “Royal connections,” he said. “Apparently, he’s somewhat of an archaeologist, always digging about for Roman artifacts or some such dusty thing. She documents them in her sketchbook. She’s already threatened to make me look at them.”

  “And they didn’t know the earl would be gone before they came to visit?”

  “So they say. Lady Elizabeth, please do me the honor of sitting with me at the picnic. It should brighten an otherwise dreary day.”

  “There’s not a cloud in the
sky, my lord.”

  “Because you have finally arisen,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it.

  She was saved from having to counter that bit of fluff by Mr. Marley, who’d come to make himself known to her.

  “Pray forgive my impertinence for introducing myself, Lady Elizabeth,” said Marley, as he bowed over her hand. “But I would not insult my esteemed hostess by ignoring any of her guests, especially one who is so highly exalted. I am Francis Marley, your humble servant.”

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir” said a bemused Lizzie to the fawning man. While a bit stoop-shouldered, he was rather good looking. Or he would be, if he were to wear clothes that weren’t quite so clergy-like in nature. And comb his hair in a more attractive manner. And perhaps wash it a bit more diligently.

  “And here is my dear sister,” he said. “Lady Elizabeth Kellington, may I present Miss Lucinda Marley.”

  Miss Marley was dressed in a plain blue gown that a governess might wear. A good half dozen years her brother’s junior, she appeared to be in her mid-twenties. While she too expressed herself quite fortunate in making Lizzie’s acquaintance, there was something about her eyes that didn’t quite match her speech.

  Or, thought Lizzie, perhaps she was imagining things after her sleepless night spent thinking of Marcus.

  * * *

  It was, indeed, a glorious day for a picnic. Lizzie sat at a table overlooking the fertile valley that ensured Riverton Farms’ prosperity. She once again found herself next to the Earl of Stalford, with Edith on his other side. Lizzie was surprised when Arthur seated himself next to Edith. She thought he would’ve sought out Miss Rennard, who was at another table between the Marleys. Lizzie was amused to see that while Arthur was sitting at her table, his eyes were fixed on Miss Rennard.