A Second Spring (17 page)

 “Don’t thank me too soon.” Untying her bonnet ribbons, Chloe turned away to set it on the dressing table and tidy her hair.

 In the looking-glass, she saw Georgie’s face fall. “Why? What did Sir Lionel say? Oh, don’t tell me he insists on marrying me?”

 “No, no, my dear, nothing so definite. He said the day was too fine and the gardens too beautiful to address so painful a subject.”

 “Painful? Then he truly loves me?”

 “So it appears. Does that change your mind?”

 “Not a bit. It is very flattering, of course, but it does not cut a single day from his age.” Tears filled Georgie’s eyes. “Aunt Chloe, what shall I do?” she wailed. “A husband with grey hair and rheumatism!”

 “Hush, love.” Chloe put her arms around her sobbing niece. “Sir Lionel has not refused to listen to me, only postponed it. I am to ride with him tomorrow in Hyde Park. His brother-in-law has a mare he thinks will suit me. I only hope it is not a dreadful slug! Is it not fortunate that I brought my riding habit?”

 Georgie’s tears dried like magic. She went to the clothes-press, saying in a voice full of foreboding, “Let me see it.” Taking out the plain, dark brown cloth habit, she spread it on the bed and shook her head. “Oh dear, it is even shabbier than I remembered. You cannot wear that to the park, Aunt Chloe. All the Fashionables ride and drive in Hyde Park.”

 “We shall go early in the morning,” Chloe argued. “Sir Lionel said few people are about then. Besides, it is not as if I am an eligible young lady trying to fix his interest. Rather the reverse—if he should take me in dislike, perhaps he will change his mind about marrying you.”

 “No one could possibly take you in dislike,” Georgie said absently. “I have some gold braid...yes, and Doro has a bonnet with gold ostrich plumes.” Seizing the habit, she dashed from the room, calling, “Dorothea!”

 With the aid of Dorothea’s abigail and the sacrifice of Dorothea’s bonnet, Chloe’s well-worn riding dress and hat were rapidly refurbished. Chloe thought they looked quite smart, but Georgie was still dissatisfied as she hung it in the wardrobe.

 “Did Lady Chingford bespeak a new habit for you?” she asked.

 “I cannot recall. I was quite bewildered by the whole business, and that reminds me, what am I going to say to your papa?”

 “Never mind Papa, you need a new riding dress. You will have far more use for it when you go home than any number of ball dresses.”

 “Ball dresses!” said Chloe, aghast. “Surely her ladyship did not order a ball dress for me!”

 “I expect so. I have three, and she thinks it not half enough, but Papa put his foot down.”

 “You came to London to go to balls and dance. I do not need a ball dress! What will Edgar say?”

 “Just tell him you dared not gainsay Lady Chingford. I am sure she expects you to relieve her by chaperoning me to balls while you are here. She says Doro is too young and far too scatterbrained to be a proper chaperon.”

 “I meant to go home tomorrow,” Chloe moaned.

 “You cannot,” Georgina pointed out. “You are to ride with Sir Lionel and convince him I should make him a terrible wife.”

 “I told him you are clever, Georgie, but it did not deter him, I fear. He thinks women’s brains are wasted for lack of proper education.”

 “Truly? What a shame he is so old!”

 “If you married him, I daresay he would buy you any books you wished for. Are you beginning to change your mind?”

 Georgie merely shook her head. “It is time to change for dinner,” she said. “Maybe by tomorrow evening you will have one of your new gowns.”

 “Unless Edgar packs me off on the Lancashire stage,” Chloe said pessimistically. She had not wanted to come to London, yet now she was here, she found she had no desire to leave.

* * * *

 “The dressmaker promised to deliver an evening gown for you tomorrow, Miss Bannister,” said Lady Chingford at dinner. “We are engaged to attend a musicale, I believe. It will be the perfect occasion to make you known to a few people.”

 Edgar opened his mouth—and closed it again. His glare, however, promised Chloe a reckoning at no distant date.

 To her relief, he went off to a ball with the rest after dinner. Georgie said he always watched her like a hawk, to make sure she did not encourage any gentleman he considered ineligible.

 Chloe read for a while, a book about Brazil Georgie had borrowed from Hookham’s Subscription Library, but she retired to bed long before the others came home. Snuffing her candle, she lay in the dark trying to plan what she was going to say to her brother.

 With Edgar already in a state of simmering fury, he was going to boil over as soon as he got her alone, whatever she did, she thought with a shudder. No argument would save her from a tongue-lashing, though his awe of Lady Chingford might stop him actually ordering his sister to leave. But Chloe suspected she herself might depart in defiance of the countess’s wishes rather than stay in defiance of her brother’s.

 Where was the courage Sir Lionel was so sure she possessed? He did not understand how intimidating Edgar could be. Boys were taught to be bold and fearless as surely as they were taught Latin and Greek. Girls learned needlework and to be meek and compliant. At an age when Chloe had barely set the last stitch in her first sampler, Sir Lionel had been a midshipman sailing around the world.

 Drowsily she wondered whether he had ever been to Brazil. She must ask him. She would like to hear about his adventures.

* * * *

 “I don’t know how adventurous a rider you are, Miss Bannister,” said Sir Lionel, gesturing to the street where a groom held three horses, “but Molesworth assures me the mare is possessed of both a docile nature and a fair turn of speed. I hope you will be satisfied.”

 “She sounds ideal.” Chloe approached the pretty dapple-grey mare with a white blaze on her nose. Offering her a lump of sugar, she asked the groom, “What is her name?”

 “Opal, ma’am.”

 “She has superb shoulders and quarters.”

 The man nodded approving agreement. “But a tad long in the back, ma’am.”

 “A trifle, perhaps.” She rubbed Opal’s nose in apology for this criticism.

 “Will she do?” Sir Lionel asked. “We sailors are notorious for our ignorance of horses.”

 “A pretty mount with a pretty name,” said Chloe, laughing as she took Opal’s reins from the groom. “What more can a lady demand?”

 “I can see your expectations are higher! She was purchased for my niece, but Arabella is nervous of horses and only rides when not to do so would mean missing an outdoor party.”

 The groom grinned. “That’s right, sir.”

 “What a shame! Well, Opal, shall we try your paces?”

 Sir Lionel lifted Chloe into the sidesaddle. The firm clasp of his hands at her waist flustered her, and of course Opal picked up her perturbation. The mare sidestepped and tossed her head, but Chloe quickly curbed and soothed her.

 She smiled down at Sir Lionel, who looked anxious. “She is a dear. We shall do very well.”

 “Sure?”

 “Quite sure.”

 He mounted his roan gelding and they set off for Hyde Park through the busy streets. After his remark about sailors and horses, Chloe watched him with some concern at first. However, he seemed perfectly at home in the saddle, though he sat rather more slouched than a purist might approve.

 “Do I pass muster?” he enquired with a grin.

 “I should have to see you in the hunting field before I pronounce an opinion.” She glanced back at the groom, following a few paces to the rear. “However, I doubt you need him to pick you up when you fall, and I do not.”

 “My sister assures me a groom in attendance is
de rigueur
when a gentleman rides out with a lady otherwise unaccompanied.”

 “With a young lady, certainly, but I am of an age to be not to need a chaperon.”

 “You will have to take that up with Elizabeth,” he said, a disturbing glint in his eye. “I am her younger brother, you see. She finds it impossible to accept that I am now elderly, so to her you appear scarcely mature.”

 “Humbug! I have not even had the pleasure of meeting Lady Molesworth.”

 “A deficiency I hope to remedy soon. Do you ride a great deal at home?”

 “Yes, quite often. Two of Edgar’s farms are up on the moors and they are frequently snow-bound for a month or two in the winter, accessible only on horseback. And at all seasons our lanes are liable to be hock-deep in mud. I had rather ride than get stuck in the gig and have to wait for someone to come along and push it out.”

 “You drive too?”

 “Oh yes. For many errands the gig is more convenient than going on horseback.”

 Under his interested questioning, Chloe found herself telling him about her life in Lancashire: visiting the tenants and taking care of their needs; overseeing her brother’s household and his poultry-yard and dairy; shopping in the village with occasional trips to Lancaster or even Manchester.

 “I am amazed you ever found time to mother your nieces and nephews,” said Sir Lionel, “still less to grow flowers and to read.”

 “From what little I have seen of London, life moves more slowly in the countryside.”

 “I confess I have not yet quite found my sea-legs in the tidal flow of country life. London is amusing for a month or two, though I suspect the constant round of entertainment will pall after a while. Both are distinctly different from life on a warship, which tends to be long periods almost ‘As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean,’ rudely interrupted now and then by tempests and battles.”

 “And calls at foreign ports,” Chloe said eagerly. “You must have seen a great many interesting places.”

 “What, you don’t want to hear about the battles? Everyone demands to hear about the battles.”

 “Do you wish to talk about them?”

 “Not in the least,” he said, sobering. “They are best forgotten.”

 “I had much rather hear about your travels. Have you ever been to Brazil? I have been reading about it.”

 Sir Lionel’s ship had been one of those transporting the Portuguese royal family and their entourage to Brazil when they fled from Napoleon’s invasion of Portugal. Chloe was fascinated by his stories of the people and places. Suspended only for a brief, exhilarating gallop in the nearly empty park, the subject lasted until they returned to Chingford House.”

 “We never fed the ducks,” Chloe exclaimed as he helped her dismount.

 “To tell the truth,” Sir Lionel admitted, “I forgot to bring bread. I’ve been hoping you would not ask.”

 “Oh dear,” gasped Chloe, a much worse omission dawning on her. “I have not said a single word about Georgie!”

 “We shall simply have to ride again tomorrow.”

 “Yes, I suppose so,” she said doubtfully, stroking Opal’s nose.

 “Then you are staying?” he asked with a smile.

 “At least until tomorrow. Lady Chingford wishes me to go to a musicale with them tonight.”

 “Miss Georgina mentioned the musicale when I danced with her last night. I shall be there. Your brother raised no objection to your attending?”

 “He will not go against Lady Chingford’s express wishes.” She bit her lip. “But I am certain he is waiting for me inside right now, to rake me over the coals.”

 “You can handle him,” said Sir Lionel confidently.

* * * *

 “Where the devil have you been?” roared Edgar. “You knew damn well I wanted to see you.”

 “Good morning, Edgar,” Chloe said with an outward composure she was far from feeling. Refusing to stand before him like a naughty child, she crossed to a chair and sat down. “I did not know you especially wished to speak to me this morning, and if I had, I did not know at what time you would come down. Is there something particular you wish to say?”

 He stalked across the room and stood towering over her, his ruddy face distorted in a fearsome scowl. She forced herself not to quail visibly. Sir Lionel trusted her to stand up to him.

 “First tell me where you disappeared to at an ungodly hour of the morning.”

 “It was much later than we rise at home at this time of year,” Chloe pointed out, hastily adding, as his cheeks purpled, “Sir Lionel Tiverton invited me to ride with him.”

 Edgar looked flabbergasted. “You went riding with Tiverton?” he asked incredulously.

 “I thought you would not wish me to offend him by refusing, since, I gather, you expect him make an offer.”

 “For Georgina, not you! Why the deuce would he want to ride with an ape-leader?”

 What would he do if she told him her real reason? The mind boggled. He might literally explode! Chloe felt a smile forming on her face and quickly wiped it away.

 A smile? When Edgar loomed over her, swollen with rage? Her mind boggled again. “I am Georgie’s aunt,” she reminded him. “No doubt Sir Lionel wishes to become better acquainted with her family, and perhaps to ingratiate himself.”

 “Can’t see why he’d want to turn you up sweet,” Edgar grunted. “You’ve got no say in the matter.”

 “How should he be aware of my lack of influence?” Chloe prevaricated.

 “Daresay he’s not,” her brother grudgingly conceded. “Be damned if he knew of your existence before you turned up. And you still haven’t explained that!”

 “Georgie mentioned in her last letter that you were wearying of the trouble of escorting her to the Season’s entertainments. It is a task I am very well able to take off your hands.”

 “True enough, though you’d no business quitting Dene without asking leave.”

 “Letters do go astray.” True enough—if irrelevant since she had not written for permission. Permission! She was his sister, not his servant, and an old maid, not a young maiden. Chloe was surprised to find herself quite indignant.

 “What’s more, you don’t need fancy gowns to chaperon Georgie,” Edgar went on, his ire reviving. “Spending my hard-earned blunt on fal-lals and fripperies as if I hadn’t already got the expense of catching Georgie a husband to match her sister’s. Not that she can expect a lord! She’ll never match Dorothea’s looks, so she’ll just have to take what she can get. But as for springing for new dresses for you, Chloe, you’re too old for anyone to care what you’re wearing.”